A Poet's Happy Dream

I found myself against a willow propped. The stones nearby me were a hundred-fold. and one by one I tossed them as they plopped into a rill while other pebbles rolled, as if with one accord, away from me. Their hundred ripples bubbled sweet champagne. I drank. . . and then I tasted poetry. saw flowers dance, and nothing was mundane! Elysian then became the air I breathed. The sun glowed purplescent. Hocus-pocus! I lay in greenest green while music wreathed the meadow, lulling me. . . till I lost focus. I woke to dusk and that inquietude that ever shadows my dark solitude. Honorable Mention poem