Different Dreams Google me and you might find that I once sat behind a mahogany desk In a corner office with a view of the bay I decided things of importance, and thought myself so Awake. Ah, but wisdom found my hiding places haunting me with dreams of twisting buildings and tidal waves and earth shifting, opening wide the ground beneath my feet. Now, I spread straw in the orchard. I harvest snow peas and snap beans and sage, and create fragrant, savory soup from fresh kale. Squash and tomatoes fill my baskets in summer I am as morning mist descends from our mountain and white pelicans ride gossamer threads above our waters I make clay pots, and pray amidst dancing trees, listening deeply called to heal the land from a wildness within me that doesn't decide anything yet knows what it means to be in this place, enchanted and magical, loving. At night, I dream different dreams.