Islands in the Sky

Gazing out, Quiet

Is the touch of a sunbeam on my shoulder

The familiar crême shade of

Thursday morning pumpkin spice lattes

Parallels the clouds’

Color, tide’s scampering in and out,

Those clouds the ocean. Waves

Tickle my mountain’s edges, she

Laughs, I

Smile, layers of peaks recede into

The fog. Look down at your

Feet, lift the left one

Or the right

And call into the vast white abyss of

Pumpkin spice latte cream,

Maybe you’ll wash up upon Camel’s 

Hump Island

Just as the sun rises and the leaves

Change.