I know why He visits me when I am asleep, and the moon is casting its shadows over the hills. He whispers, although inaudible; the rhythm is mystical.
The hawks start to screech, and I hear them flexing their wings to escape this unknown presence.
I toss and turn hopelessly in bed, until a powerful force lifts me up above the clouds. I’m shown a long ago forgotten, but familiar land. Why is this city here, up in the sky? And not on earth where I live and work? These questions I can only ask myself; my visitor He will not speak. He watches and waits. Before day break, I’m back in my bed with a dream in my head.
Vera Robinson © 2015