I wonder dream the lives
Within this farmhouse
Does a woman rise and take her coffee
Onto a porch overlooking her fields
As I dream in the dark
Miles and hours away?
Does she fast from the headlines
Of a world in disarray
Remembering years that seemed somehow gentler?
Does the find herself
At end of day
Watching the fireflies heralding the dusk
And the fall of the night
With her energy spent and her body ready
For a dreamless sleep
Only to find her mind awake
Sorting the tasks of the day to come?
As her seasons flow by the harvest time
And her labors are measured in tangibles
The world sails on
And the politicians think their important thoughts
As the land rules every day
Does she wonder about the lives hidden
Within other houses?
Or does she live in the concrete: a solid reality she has shaped with her bare hands and a strong back?
What do we share? Would we know each other?
Is there a dream we share to create a better world?
So I seek my sleep: dragged by fatigue
Living hours behind that pastoral image
Where we might find
Our common ground. ~ Caroline A. Slee