Took some time this evening
looking at the sky
and Emily Carr paintings
of above the tree line.
The trees and sky outside my window
mirror the image on the page,
and I am still again
inside the shadow of world.
Only, an oriole appears
as I despair
at the distance between
our reality and dreams.
A gold gift placed in the treetops
all aglow in yellow sunset beams…
while the reliable needle whispers softly
upon the ended record spinning,
“All are lost in circles in the sky.”
