Dreamer's Eye

Drawing back,
relaxed
where croaks echo back. 

Soft dew curdles in the sun, 
firm skin boils the droplets
of water exposed to mud,
washed away by singing rain
felt not as pain
but gentle scraping,
gnawing on
the bark which shields
infant plant warriors
from dastardly breezes. 

The sky,
neatly tucked above
in folds of white
turning violent gray
before it closes
so hazy in the day.

Fall back to bed,
the dream has ended.
The storm has passed
and is now beginning.
Living life at night, 
in the eye of the storm.