An empty sky

An old oak
composes itself
with a rustle
of leaves.

The distaste of age
salt sprinkled in
my pepper beard.

In the tall grass
camas blooms
transcendent
violet-blue.

The gentle cadence
of leaves walking
on sunshine.

The battered tree
with its injured canopy
grows closer to the light
gathering strength from
circumstance.

My arms
outstretched
feet firmly rooted
hair mussed
by the breeze
emulating trees.

Our cat
curled on
the chair,
soaking up
sunlight —
listening
to the
pureness
of her purr —
there can
be no greater
bliss.

My teeth
plunge into
the crisp
depths of
a full-bodied
apple —
waves of
taste rushing
over my
tongue —
a bite to
remember.

The drone 
of an airplane
echoes overhead —
I see its wings
fade into the distance —
an empty sky left
to my imagination.