Butterflies live in air that is, to them, As solid as water. They swim, or fly, Tumbled by the currents. A garden of butterflies is, perhaps, A kind of aquarium Where we can sit Surrounded by air fish.

Reach for the skies Climb higher, higher Powering into the blue Shake the earth as you Reach for the skies Achieving lift-off Aiming for the moon Begins with flying. Reach for the skies!

The white walls between the artworks Seen and unseen daily Framing the frames Unremarked. The silence between the music Coughed and whispered over Framing the notes Unnoticed. The pauses between the words Chasmic conversations Framing meaning Unspoken. The stillness between the beats, Pulses echo outwards…

bird’s eye- view How insignificant these tiny things Depending on wheels, Or on metal wings. Moving along pre-set ways Unable to grasp, to understand The immensity of the sky. I ride an updraft, glide on high Spot with my stereoscopic eye A red car stopped…

Once these were busy thoroughfares On a green and sunny day Water rushing up from the roots Processed food being carted away. This was an oxygen- processing unit, too, Till the air itself turned into fog, And the winter chill settled itself down To write…