Dreamways

I wake each day to stretch across the threshold of sleep into the curtained morning light, searching for the wisps of dreams that have lately vanished with only the hint of a lingering scent, like a lover disappeared in the night. There are feeling tones that will sound through the day, triggered by a voice in the alley or a snippet of news on the radio. These cues keep the door ajar as I water the garden, sweep the walk, and close the house windows against the coming heat of August days in Denver. But the familiar substance of my dream world remains out of reach and out of sight.