You know those days.
Those myriad ways
That thoughts fly forth
From haunted halls.
They spray across the horizon
Like dragonfire belched.
Twining trails, like hydra tails,
Crisscross before me.
Warping and wefting,
Hefting current burdens
And bearing them away.
Riding the jet stream
Like a jazz trumpet solo
I gently drift and sift
To sleep within your dream.

Inspired, in part, by this picture I took of crossing contrails I viewed as the sunrise painted them.


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