Aloft in Cogitation

In an old brick building with dusty walls and worn wooden floors, I stand gazing out the old single-paned glass window situated at the far end of the upper room. The blue tinted glass is rippled and warped, reminding me of the clear turquois waters of the Caribbean. The wooden frame is simple, but rough to the touch. It reminds me in some way of the towering trees in the distant forests of the Northland. If I close my eyes, I can imagine their rugged branches brushing across my fingertips and hear their gentle whispers faintly in my ears.

From my position above the street, I watch the hustle and bustle below and wonder at each passer-by as they rush along. Where might they be headed? Do they see me in the window? I dearly hope not. I would rather gaze unattended by another’s notice. My mind is lost in it’s musings and an interruption would feign be welcome. Breathing deeply, I inhale the stale warm familiar air.

My creativity and abstract imagery have sailed away with me and I am content to let them take me wherever they would like to go. Closing my eyes, I imagine once more.