STRETCHED CANVASS

What limits define my horizon?
Many directions call, singing
enchantment of each new path
frontiers beyond an another.
Life’s liturgy filling my house
until there is no room left
open the doors and shutters
to let the sun stream in.
The day’s peace pervades
time asserts a waiting holds on
but I wear the wind
like a vast canvass stretched
standing there upon invention.
Memories flower and seed with time
sprout in warm rains, petals open
colorful sails filled with wandering breeze
As carried on the Ganges to the sea.

c) Jan G. Otterstrom F.
    December 21, 2008
    Costa Rica, Central America