We lounge in a meadow

near a babbling brook

a lone cloud inching

across a sapphire sky.


It has a head, my friend says

pointing to the cloud.

Yes, I say, as I see

the canine snout

protrude and a

curve form along the jaw.


There’s an eye!

The pinhole opens.

And tail!

A wisp wags against the blue.


As we speak

the image concretizes—

what we imagine



An exuberant dog

races across the open sky

its legs reaching forward,

a Divine lesson imparted

through shifting, flowing white:

We are the creators.


Here in this meadow

where I lie on soft grass

the crucial message:

When I image

the Beloved

I become the Love

that I am.


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