Gazing through a ring

of aspen at cloud barges

sailing on a periwinkle sea.

Trembling branches reach out,

swaying, saying ‘hello’

or ‘goodbye’.

And I wonder.

Are the clouds sailing past us?

Or are we sailing past them?

I only know that I will never fear

to tremble again.

For after the trembling, and the

reaching out,

perspectives change.