Phantoms
In my sleep
They drifted into my dreams last night.
phantoms in my sleep
mystery of history
Before closed eyes, they creep.
And wander through the ages.
these avatars in jars
preserved for nights of dreaming
They could have been from Mars.
I wonder if the thunder.
and the morning light
reveals scenes seen in a dream
As I watch eagles in flight.
I watch them from the balcony.
As they fly by
on their magic trajectory
They don’t even have to try.
First thing in the morning
and last thing at night
On the wing, they all bring
A sense of pure delight.
Eagles leave their lookouts.
teaching young to fly
the mystery of history
And call their mournful cry.
They soar and swing on summer winds.
In the sun when they are young.
Then glide into winter’s shadows.
And speak in a different tongue.
The mystery of history
those nights that never end
looking for the answers
She was peering round the bend.
Those that came before us
gone through in my mind
They are scenes seen in a dream.
At night my senses find.
©
David Rudder
2022
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