It was cool air in the morning.

All green and fresh, no sound.

Except for birds and breaking light.

And all that’s happening on the ground.

I am still yet I am moving.

In my head, there are these things.

It’s more a past, but I see future.

Invisible threads where this all swings.

I’ve been home, and there’s a moral.

Of the story, often goes…

If there’s a sail on your dory.

Enjoy the break when that wind blows.

Dennis Mantin