L’autre Monde

The Milky Way is reflecting off the surface of a cedar bog. It is 3:23 in the morning. A beaver tail slaps the water in the distance. There is a light fog drifting between the dead wood and water. Fire flies still graze the surface of the starlit inky ground. My feet sink deep into a dark and airy soil. Glowing eyes hover in the darkness. I play with fluid watercolors on my paper while my mind wanders the depths of this memory. It embellishes of course, I get in a boat and wander through L’autre Monde. A biblical bush of fire appears and turns into a fairy spire. The rush of waterfalls greet my ears and sun begins to rise bringing an end to this waking dream and static white noise of a fan.