Daily Poem
The Dream Child, by Nancy Varian Berberick

Night-woven moon-child, running, running--
starlight spinning down your spiraled horn,
like frost chasing your sea-grey neck,
the white-maned curve, the bow-bent arch.
Wind sighs, loving your shoulders,
streaming down your back, and falls away;
wind in the cold night crying,
too slow to catch the wonder.

Speed-sparks leap from hoof and stone--
on the sea the waves are rising,
springing up to see the West-child,
the dream-child, the cloud-maned.
And your hard hooves are drumming,
drumming, splashing up silver surf,
flinging sand back against the darkness,
in sprays like diamonds, showering.

Bearded North is blowing,
his cold white breath steaming,
streaming, down the high stone places.
East is the day's bright face.
South is the world's heart, the unfolding warmth.
And West is where the black-eyed unicorn is running,
running on the edge of the world,
dancing down the road to home.

For the night is all spun, and this dream is all done.