I have written before about how the singer songwriter Bob Franke said that his songs sometimes came to him in dreams. This morning in that moment between sleep and wakefulness, I was blessed with a visual and a first line, and it’s high time. I had a run of poems a while back, haiku in particular. It’s always only a moment, so I am glad to see the inspiration return, if only for just this moment.

Sand grains cross the moon
Birds in formation far off
We stay to observe

It is an image at some level given to me by Geoff Bartley’s “Sanderlings.” Speaking of the migration of these tiny beachcombers migrating a mile high, he intones “Someone with a night telescope might see them as fine grit streaming across the face of the moon.” Still, I hope you enjoy.