Do you ever have your head in the clouds? It could be the feeling of being untethered, or just the thin air but lofty thoughts abound up there.

FLOWER OF BOZEMAN

Without lessons, I skipped and sailed

Across a parquet floor of cotton balls

Bordered by chiffon curtains.

Lighter than air,

I glided through patented pirouettes

Onto grateful sunlit balconies

That overlooked the western sky.

Wearing garments of silken dreams,

My body, fresh from its cocoon, took wing

And danced to the flower of Bozeman.