Poetic Canvas

from a journatation

Poetic Canvas

I feel my thoughts and I
are contained in a wooden barrel and,
tired of them going on and on,
I want to climb out.

Outside I'd lean against the barrel,
enjoying the silence,
feeling the breeze,
watching the woods,

the squirrels chattering, yes-
but also the creatures on the ground,
and those climbing dark limbs,
and upwards I see trees scratching the blue sky,

Until I realize that the great big sky
contains that word I just referred to as I-
and these words, and thoughts,
and thoughts, and more thoughts.