Nature recycles as everyone sleeps,
and those dreams that you’ve dreamed are the daydreams it reaps.
Then twice thought and forgotten, our daydreams soar free.
How many dreams may lie snarled in this tree?
We cast them afloat but know not how they fare
once we’ve released them out into the air.
Dreams are not limited by dreamers’ choices.
Once announced and declared in stentorian voices,
birds may collect them and shape them in nests
among fibers from sweaters and threadbare old vests
once the pride of new grandpas, they now cradle eggs,
as though new dreams are made of an old daydream’s dregs.
Prompts today are stentorian, daydream, pride, afloat and I’m also incorporating Becca Givens’ Sunday Tree prompt.