We whisper our dreams into mason jars , then screw the lids down tight and set them on the windowsill to catch the morning sun. The wolves run from the dawn, eager for sleep. Sometimes, our eyes meet, the pane and a whole lot of distance between us, but we know this a shared moment, and a special one.
As we got ready for bed, we realized our dreams had perished while we were busy with our chores and schooling. We hadn’t punched air holes in the lids. We were worried about them escaping.
A wolf wandered outside our window, waiting.