I had a dream that we were walking
down riverbanks of ice.
My feet were slipping.
The snow had drifted high.

Then I woke and I'd been sleeping
underneath the deep snow
deep beneath the white snow
buried in the sweet snow
up to my chin.

Then I woke and it was just the blankets,
warm and home, in bed.

I listened to the songs left over from the summer,
from when I was at the sea:
all those songs I had in my head
back then.

And I can't decide, sometimes
if I would rather be here, or there--

But actually I'm just glad
that you and I can walk along the riverbanks
when the riverbanks are ice
and that I didn't slip too far
from your reach.