END

The world undocks, leaving me
free to float, outside the hold
of gravity, cut loose, I lose touch
as this transient state slips
disengaging temporary reality:
morning gray cabin smoke
drifting away, above green pines
or a seed of cottonwood
picked up, wind lifted of times
tenderly transported home
to a better bed of moist loam.

c) Jan G. Otterstrom F.
    July 4, 2011
    Over Costa Rica