There’s a leaf; it looks like a moth, feet gripping to the side of a cedar. March’s chill reminds me still that it’s fall, not spring. I take a breath, a long and heavy breath, to release my previous session. I reset and forget and feel the comfort of my bed from underneath me.
The moments of the day, fleeting and yet magnificent, in them are like fingerprints, holding all our significance.
Floating on the surface is fine, but have you sunk into the deep? The stillness I seek, in the quiet, in the dark, and on the ocean floor.
A ray of sun harpoons through it onto me, and I warm. Up I go, surfacing from below.
The water’s salt lightens my load as I implode like a fracturing star within. I’ve come far, but where on this green earth shall I go?
It’s unanswerable, I believe. The hitchhiker that I am; throws a thumb into the air, hoping the wind will take me away with it forever.
Too far into the clouds – your head, your thoughts – come down now. I wave and drift and somersault a bit; this feels like a wondrous gift.
I pluck the petals off flowers like words from the air to form sentences. Make no pretenses. Let me be clear, I will do this again.