Sometimes
I like to dream
I am alone with myself,
loose folds of blue and white
sky overhead,
skirt of wildflowers
spread over the underside
of earth.
Silence surrounds me,
except for the roll of waves
and song of the sparrow;
these are the rhythms
my soul falls asleep to.
Sun on my skin,
browning my arms
and neck,
coaxing the true self
a little closer to the surface.
How can one spend hours alone?
How can one not, when I
was made to be
one with this world?
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