The dream felt memorable.
Then I awoke and it was gone.
I thought how in hunting the moment
has to be just right to make the shot
and thought of dreams and memories
being caught, one so like the other,
holding meaning. If I could
swear in sleep, I would have sworn
I was going to catch the dream when
I awoke. It was gone and what remained
was that sense of loss, like a kiss not taken,
a caress not felt, a word not spoken
and the lingering regret throughout the day
of “what if?” as a postscript to every moment.
I took small comfort in the faithfulness
of the trees and grass and horses
in the pasture, the wind, the sky,
the clouded sunlight saying,
“You do not need to remember us,
we are here.” Could not reconcile
the sense of loss to what was freely given.
-Byron Hoot
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