I’m bringing up a dream. Every morning I face it as if I were before a mirror. I measure it, I gauge it by my eye if it is mature enough, ready to become true. Is it full of the sap of life and is it about to bubble up?...
late dusk…
the acorn having a dream
about its oak-tree
a gentle breeze
blows my dress
Diana Teneva
Published in Contemporary haibun online
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