After more than half a year of poetic silence, I asked my dreams to send  a poem.

Well, more specifically, I asked my dreams to send me a poem about clouds.

I did not dream about clouds.

I did not even dream a poem.

Instead, my dreams delivered to me a baby … and one word.

It’s a start.

The following poem is from a dream report of July 3, 2010:

Baby’s First Word

The baby in my arms says, “Okay.”
“That’s your first word,” I exclaim. “Okay!”

I coax him: “Say it again. Say, ‘Okay!’ ”

But he looks bored. “Okay,” I repeat. “Okay, Okay.” But I’m the only one talking now.

I can only utter one word, the baby tells me, no words this time, his arched eyebrows and impatient grimace say it all. But I understand everything you say, he continues.

I try not to act surprised. I try not to run through all the things I’ve said in his hearing. I try not to wonder what he knows.

“He’s two weeks old, and already speaking!” I brag

To the mother, filling her cart beside me. We’re in the grocery store,

And this baby in my arms is already reaching for what he wants.