Lucid Dreams



He’s entering the woods as oft before,
And still his heart is thumping, resolute,
This path has been the backdrop to his more
lucid revelations, thoughts astute.

The crunch of long-dropped pine cones underfoot,
Reminds him, well, that feral denizens,
inhabit near, ‘neath torn-asunder roots,
Darkened dens where life begins again.

He’s witness to a symphony, the strains
his sense invades; canned laughter caught on tape,
This realm (distinct, unique and new) remains
his sacred place; no need to plan escape.

For he is one with Mother Nature’s best
And here, his deep-most secrets unrepressed.




Written in response to this week’s Studio 30+ prompt! using the phrase “canned laughter”.

It has been a while since I last entered this challenge, and I’m glad to be back, amidst such a talented group of writers.

NaPoWriMo 2014
NaPoWriMo 2014


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