In dawn’s stillness
green canoe floats gently
on sky’s image- –
a dreamscape of morning’s
blue satin reflection.

Oarsman rests- –
assimilating solitude,
a bonding of soul and Earth.

Rippling
water dances around him
a ballet of silver-blue
poetry on the pond.

Steamy bone white vapor
tentacles rise- -delivering
syllables to his eyes so he
may recite them with imagery.
– -He holds both long and short
vowels within the vessel of his lungs
to be uttered
in a single
softly whispered breath.

Reaching in- –
from the cup of his hands
he drinks the words
so he may taste the sunrise
of his lone journey.

He laughs
gloriously- -knowing
for a time- -this place
is his- -ALONE.

Copyright 2010, by Suzie Ashby.

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