You might recognize the inference to the American folktale, "Rip Van Winkle." In my poem, the old man comes alive to his surroundings and longs to pass down what he knows to the future generations.
though rather late, I woke up i might have thought I wasted time in nodding but what a wonderful dream I had the hoary woods crew danced on my eyelids sourced balsam scent and poppies the floaters fresh and cruel motivators i limp along, with a beard so long, and cane my knee’s bent, my pace slowing but shadow’s spreading as I part my lips, dandelion seeds sail through gentle waves of wind toward generation gaps the stories i will tell of flagons, empty dragon’s breath joy of open eyes how sunlight revives the tenderness of life implement the words of Solomon the wise
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