Drifting

Struggle is no more. I’ve let go. I’ve accepted.
A cloud is my bed and frosted blossoms cradle my weary head, freeze my eyelids shut. Cicadas zizz in a throbbing, undulating rhythm and a waterfall of chilled air lulls me into a tundra of sparkling white nothingness. Drifting, drifting on the breeze that carries the rush and throng of the world; the dull, sustained roar of cars and trucks racing down asphalt, the songs of birds in flight, the splashing laughter of children, the hiss of summer, the slow waltz of the ages. I’m drifting, alone. Here. A million miles away. There. I’m drifting, drifting to where I want to be. Where I need to be. Jolie warblin’. Dogs woofin’. Clear. Alone. Gone. I'm drifting...