Flight of Fancy

6 degrees but it feels like minus eight Dressed like children swaddled to meet the bus Walking beside a quiet soothing sea Face is warmed by the sun that's coming up Seagulls pick and skip over lapping waves Sea-glass collectors comb the empty beach Blinded by the sun laid on the water Too cold to wave they just nod each to each. A tug boat with a garbage scow in tow Creeps along where the ocean meets the sky An unleashed dog runs with new found freedom Chasing birds until they arise and fly. In my own mind I lift off with the birds Thoughts of trivial trouble left behind Soaring high above the boundless ocean Free to explore the boundaries of my mind.