Take off into a forest of no trees, as it bends billows and curves across my window.
As we rise, sugar and salt foliage sit still in the wind bleaching the sky in white and gray.
As we rise, the embers tease of heat, distant and fading; delightful lights painting the silver forest a cold dark garnet.
As we rise, burnt are the salt water tips; streaks of orange, ruby and gold defy the orderly spectrum of light.
As we rise, And without a flicker, they fade west. Leaving silhouettes, wildernesses without roots, without, without form, Only grey stained branches and fluff.
Ambivalent treetops graze the edge of the moons night, a rapidity approaching promise.
The covenant between the moon, and sky forest, the marriage of sugar, salt, and the sun rays, was never written but is rehearsed, daily.
I am so lucky to witness A forest, treeless and A fire, heatless.
I am so lucky to play witness to the nature of clouds, to be consumed by a wilderness in the stars.
I am after all a tethered beast, only imitating an angel, gliding on open winds, peering through a looking glass.
