Leaves, twirling in sunlight
Tiny sardines, lazy horse’s main, lush lianas and those looking like giant broccoli
they seem they know their stuff.
Breeze in the trees and on my eye lids.
Shade still in the corner of the morning, cusped in my coffee cup.
The horizon, a silver line
spotted with towers like from sand, and red and pink splashes, tropical trees
I want to breathe this wake, turn around and around on this open plan, never-ending horizon.
Birds, this is their medium
cutting through sun- soaked morning breeze
landing on one the branches or reaching for the sand castle.
How I wish I could hold on to their strong neck with my tiny palms
jump with them off the pillow heads of magnolia trees and orange flutes
running through the shaded labyrinth of most unimposing branches
even those that think they are leaves rather than bark,
circulating and zigzagging with shrewd speed the air full of dew