on the mountain, we stopped to sleep
and to eat, to wash off the sweat, to
take off our shoes. we fell asleep,
woke up to breakfast being cooked,
little cakes, flakes of snow, some quail.
and we ate. I’d had a dream where I built
a tent like the tabernacle with elaborate rooms,
tables and chairs, panes of glass,
gold and copper and bells, different pitches.
in the dream I was thirsty and there was water to drink.
in the dream we had skin that shone.