Paper Plane

A sunset picture and a short poem.

I’m busy working on my novel and don’t want to interrupt the flow. So, instead of an essay, I’m sending yesterday’s unfiltered sunset photo (the best so far this year!) and a poem I wrote. See you next week!

Paper Plane

I found a paper plane today.
I flew it home, across a sea of time
where morning mist glides 
over old man Ikeard’s pond, 
climbs the willow where I hide
to hear his lonely rowing song
into shadows— 
licked away by midday sun 
wading now in shady shallows.
Run perch, run—fingerlings
memories swim beyond my grip
flare and fade forever from the tip
of my marshmallow stick—
when twilight oaks shiver
their fallen brothers burn the wind 
distant campfires spark 
the world mysterious again, 
I hear mother’s call
echo across pond and time
tuck me in—  
my pillow smells of pine
fold the day up in goodnight.
Sleep son, sleep—dreams
paper planes sent to the night,
what any of it means
I’ll forget by morning light. 

An audio recording of this essay can be found here:

Audio: Paper Plane