I dreamt last night the pandemic was over,
but then the ash fell like dancing rain,
and then we let our tongues rake the air
for the water that followed,
and there were men and women,
together again, like before we
knew the word other.

There was a hush over the world,
no tractors, no mowers,
no broken mufflers,
Nobody trying to get somewhere
ten minutes before anything began.
There was an acorn of patience,
a night-blooming jasmine of justice.

And everyone was laughing at themselves
and touching each other
and listening to stories, hands on knees,
and seeing those hands as useful
looking at their feet rooting into place.
Finally not needing to run.

And all the days stretched over the earth again,
Into luminous light that was named the sky
and we saw the many shades of green and named them
And the trees spoke to us and we heard them,
and in this dream we were all blooming

for no clear reason but to be together again
In the flowering season.