Moon

I float through my days on a soft cushion of medication.  I am in a big blow-up raft, high, and dry, and well away from deep water.  I focus on minutiae -- the foam bubbles at the surface; reflections of sky and trees.  Softly up, softly down, the current carries me where it will.

At mid-night, startled from a dream, I open my eyes to the glare of the full moon.   

Comments

[Cathy]

I miss waking up and seeing the moon. In this house I don't get watch the moon sail across the black speckle sea.
Hope you are doing good :)