Stuck in a unidirectional flow,
staring at ocean view out our window,
sharing wisps of last night’s dreams,
connecting to colors, old melodies,
a wide realm of touchstones,
spinning lack into another great maybe.
Abundance is here, merely hiding,
waiting around the nearest corner,
whistling a happy refrain.
That cloud looks like a heron,
a sign of hope, omen of portent,
potent with potential, a coda
full of unresolved possibility:
wanting warmth, needing love,
not ready for that requiem yet.