Dreams

Waking up this morning, there are a million pulses.
The chickens roar.
Beating, desiring —
The voices wave.
Soaring, swimming —
The heat kisses.
Spinning, tracing —
The metal turmoils.
Flapping, narrating —
The leaves rotate.
Glittering, beckoning —
Millions become one in the background of infinitely blue,
Illuminating all tiny dreams as they are infinitely true.