Dream

In the dream, I am living in some indeterminate
time delineated only by the late atmosphere
of the sky at dusk, a house alone in the mountains
and my moving silhouette sharp against the moorland
light, happy at the end of a working day in some
old northern landscape, rearing sheep and walking,
with two tired, panting dogs at my side,
to a lighted kitchen, the last embers of the fire
brought to life by my kneeling.

But one thing remains the same in this abstraction,
when I look over my shoulder and smile, you are there
to greet me, to take my hand and walk with me
in the last of the precious light, talking together
of some future that cannot be imagined even by my ideal.
Our love of dreaming together,
as good as any future arrival.

--David Whyte 

[Photo taken on Hood Canal, WA]