late winter dream

at the ocean's edge, on the sand, in a bluish daylight,
i held a camera in one hand and a red string in the other

at the end of the string was a small white paper bird. i tried
in vain to organize a photograph such that my paper bird would
appear to fly in the sky above the sea. this took more hand coordination
than i was prepared to give.

i fumbled with the camera, my hands moist from the ocean air,
wind blowing about, hair in my face.

all of the sudden i found myself many yards back and high in the air,
atop a sort of cliff. from underneath me came a rage of black horses
charging out into the ocean, spreading east and west as they went,
accompanied by soldiers. each figure was solid and dark against the blue-white
swirls of wave, sand, clouds, sky.

in a flash i wondered where they would go--the sea would surely
swallow them. and just as i wondered, i witnessed a magnificent thing--
each horse, each soldier, transformed into a black bird, and took to the sky.

i managed to capture one single photograph of this moment.