Garden Breeze

A warm breeze, its source unknown, yet upon its breath Carries the scents of my garden, thyme and sage and rose Moving over warm soil, picking up cricket calls and aromas Brought to me as I lay in bed, through a window open wide Tomatoes and grass, full of residual heat from the August sun Cooling under the pale light of the moon and stars, above Slumbering, the wind comes and chases dreams through my brain Like a pack of wild things, running in the halls made up of trees Images of open spaces, verdant green hills, empty beaches bare Owls hunting voles, victory in my garden, they cry of their lusts Slinking feral cats, backyard lions, yowl to the moon in defiance Sleep translates this mundane to where King Ozymandias reigned My veggie plot, only grows stunted cherry tomatoes in the corner The slugs went and ate my eggplant and the aphids suck my roses The freeway makes a perfume of tar and smoke to bedevil my nose A hot night and I open my bedroom window to catch some of the air But in my mind, small things work magic and translate to the epic When I sleep under the breeze that has blown through my garden