Picture: Journey To Outer Space by Tithi LuadThong
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Bare branches against white skies.
The rain sizzles on the umbrellas,
Like frying butter on a pan. Good old fellas,
The sycamores toast at the skies:
“Quench our thirst!”
Nothing else,
Nothing else exists but this one
Breath you’re taking.
Inhale, exhale.
Nothing but the music all around you,
The songs you choose,
The ones you don’t.
Paper clouds, doused with smoky
Tinges of grey, hang unapologetically.
Are they really heavy? Isn’t it hokey
To stick our labels automatically?
“Not so fast! Let them fall away…”
Let what’s known surprise you over
And over again. Each millisecond,
New dimensions unfold, so fecund,
Shifting in and out, and hover
In outer space!
Yes, this is the place!
This is the time,
You’ve never been so on-time.
Clouds of paper,
Cuttlefish-ink canopies,
Bird-flutes, blown by the wind.
Wake up,
This is a dream.
Herons
