Sometimes we feel virtuous and breezy,
even without a breeze.
It’s a good day for a picnic on the pier.
It’s a good day to be on the pier.
Stick in hand,
commanding our presence,
refueling from the surrounding wilds,
releasing all the tedium into the depths,
dissolving,
dissolving
beneath,
and in return,
benevolent bubbles surfacing
bursting at the edge’s pier,
on that bridge to that other,
there’s no turning back now,
you’re the blessing we’ve been waiting for.