Can’t find my way into the ethers

wandering colors, copper and turquise

The odd thought or two

I come to the paper to allow myself freedom

and fill the paper with the thoughts that roll around in my head

Maybe some thoughts that don’t

Thoughts of plants and weeds rolled into thin cigarettes

Smelling smoke that soothes the psyche

Inhale deeply the old fashioned way

Then exhale, slowly watching the smoke rise, to the ceiling,

It disappears

Maybe I will too

 

by Deborah E. Dayen

Picture from Google Images