Carpet of yellow petals,
Gently stroked by the California sun
A Phoenix rises magically –
Aided by the unlikely brush
Of the drought ridden landscape.
Winds carrying the folded seeds
Yet too young to hold life,
Hiding in the shadows.
The wind, gentle in it’s embrace
Holds them in its life-giving clutches.
Then, grows stronger – by purpose,
Sways randomly and howls,
Announcing it’s intent, waits a moment,
Then scatters them without thought.
The seeds fall – rain down
An invisible carpet of yellow,
Settling like snow at the start of winter.
A serene bed of invisible yellow, Lush –
Waiting to be pulled
Waiting to be trampled
Waiting to be smelled
Now covering the drought ridden scape.
Unfold – opening two closely held palms
Reveal tiny specks of life.
Each seed holding,
Minuscule caged lives of leaves, branches, shoots and roots.
Each seed releases the caged lives
To capture in its field of mustard dreams, stories-
That have yet to be told.
The plants rise –
To become themselves,
From minuscule cages.
Climbing steadily –
Up invisible ropes.
Revealing carpets of yellow
Revealing their baby dreams
Held long in the caged embrace of the seed.
Carpets adorning a passageway
An intersection between two paths
Crossing on a busy highway.
Cars buzzing past,
Carrying chatter, music, crying, fighting, laughter, solitude
All sorts of souls really.
All in one,
Glance at waving carpet of yellow
Then shoot by
Scatter everywhere, ignoring
The field of mustard dreams.
A flowing field of yellow,
Holds stories untold.
Feels Unending –
Looks to hide the sunset where it ends.
Weaves hopes and desires of lovers,
Amongst its fields of mustard dreams.
Hiding – Sweet warmth of their embrace,
Clinging to each other,
Willing precious moments into eternity.
Music of their laughter,
Warming of their faces –
Smiles only known to them.
Gentle sound of the steps,
Tiptoeing towards each other,
Hiding from everywhere.
Their lives now only theirs
For no else
Only for the field of mustard dreams to know.
Moments of eternity pass –
Sun finally overrun
By unending fields of mustard dreams.
Their warmth now becomes a memory,
Music now just an echo gently subsiding
Tiptoes moving slowly away from each other
Leaving gentle impressions soon to vanish.
Their lives –
Soon to be everybody else’s.
They return –
Into the the busy highway
Joined by their others.
Moving past each other,
Not recognizing –
Music of their laughter
Warmth of their smile
Tiptoeing of their steps.
Joining their paths along the busy highway,
The crossroads that joined them
Now moves away.
The lovers look back –
One last time at the field of mustard dreams.
And wonder –
Will their dreams hold forever,
Or be wiped away by the wind
Unannounced and in an instant
To form another field of mustard dreams
– Somewhere else.