Awaiting Tomorrow

[From: “The Last Journal of Gwyllyn"] 

If in your dreams you see me wandering
through ripe wheatfields, pensive, pondering,
alone and adrift upon an ocean of grain
golden and billowing under a threat of rain,
then sing out to me from your upstairs window,
intone a bright song while the sea-zephyrs blow,
that my thoughts in the turbulent twilight air
will be mingled with a music resplendent and fair
and so ascend arrayed with both gladness and sorrow
through clouds to the starlight awaiting tomorrow.