The Beacon

Lighthouse Dandelions by Jamie Wyeth

I dreamed of a lighthouse, lit by the sun,
but the dark clouds hovered near-
threw a vivid and menacing shade on a hill
whose atmosphere filled me with fear.

Stark rose the seed heads, as from the grave,
the gold of their petals long gone,
and their skeleton bodies reached up to me
as I stood apprehensive and wan.

My dreams sailed rough seas all that night long,
storm-tossed on turbulent waves,
till a beam from that lighthouse lead me to shore
and I knew, as I woke, I'd been saved.

Written for The Mag  with thanks to Tess

Yearning

Always the head turning,
yearning for the unattainable,
out of reach star.

A bizarre unspoken plea
we see in the eyes
as the soul espies a far horizon
enlivened by possibility.

Curiosity nurtures
future dreams,
seeming to enthrall
all who are captured
by the rapture of expectation.

Inspiration came from the Mag 167 thanks to Tess and Mary Cassatt. 

But Oh, my goodness! Now Ada has discovered my yearnings -  I shall be in the dog house for sure...Hang on...I do believe Beloved has decided to pinch my arty endeavour, and join the fun here this afternoon. Well, wonders will never cease!