A Series of Dreams

I saw you in the winter-time;
I saw you in the snow;
I saw you thru’ the camera-lenses.

I didn’t know your name, but
I think they called you Schmo
as you ranted and put up your fences.

This was a series of dreams.
And you went under in a Youtube-stream.

I saw you ‘mong the bees and birds;
I saw you in the Spring,
as you clawed your way out of this gig.

At the same time, I saw nothing –
this was a Youtube thing;
a two-dimensional story and a rig.

This was a series of dreams…

As it wilted; as it rotted –
I saw you in the Fall,
and you put your shoes on in defeat.

It was bloody; it was slaughter;
you had crust and you had gall.
You where cutting, cutting to the meat.

This was a series of dreams…

The cruellest month was August;
high summer at high noon,
as everything dried up – it was dire.

The slow trickle from the creek
and the dam that was too soon;
the echo in the well; the woods on fire.

This was a series of dreams…