I float down the river lying so still,
oak branches shelter me, stars,
a canopy, lattice the sky,
my compass, my comfort
like campfire memories
of orange-gold embers
dancing with black velvet
clouds nesting in tree tops.
I float down the river,
lying so still, wind
washing over me, fish
flying under me,
ghosts of pine scents
cleansing my spirit,
a boulder of granite,
my pillow this night.
I float down the river,
lying so still, glide
past marigold meadows
past fanfares of starlings,
past Don Quixote’s windmills
my breath crescendos,
past death into sunlight.
