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.