This morning, I’m in the watery world above the clouds.
Swans swim along a tree-lined shore
and the boy from the moon is a grown man
fishing from a boat with a friend.
A beaver dives into the blue sky as we pass by
And bass swirl among the lily pads.
Below the clouds and above the clouds
a brilliant sun cuts a path before us.
Smooth, velvet clouds, parted by our paddles,
Re-gather as we glide on
Out-paced only by the bright white dot of a plane.