A tree growing gnarled
inside an intrepid bubble
floating up toward a windmill made of tulips.
How Dutch my dreams are these days
And I always go Dutch with them.
I will pay for my own lead and bread
if dreams will pay for theirs.
What happens to me when I float without roots,
a microcosm of germs and stardust rising toward
my personal zenith?
Miniature Moon 