A window, covered by thick curtains
Behind these, facing out into the night, feathers and thread twine and tangle
A complicated disk of knots and taught ropes that spin together to make
A glorious pattern, passed down through the centuries.
Dreams float out from the sleeper within the room,
pictures briefly make themselves seen.
The hem of a turquoise dress, spinning, spinning –
An azure ocean, no bathers in sight –
Feathery purple-grey grass and heather, field upon field –
Quick flashes of beauty the dreamer will probably never remember.
The Dream Catcher snags these dreams before they can escape,
Reeling in its precious treasure, confining it within its woven structure.
And sometimes – on a very rainy day – the dreamer, awake and bored,
Will catch a glimpse of a dress, an ocean, a field
Strange – yet familiar.