He woke up to see
a pond that stretched vertical,
a pond of blue morning air
that didn't need a scuba mask to make translucent.
The lilypads were clouds,
washed a pure clean bleach white
by the motherly hands of the night.
The sun was a burnt skipping stone,
and rippled smiles 7926 miles wide over everything.
He smiled back over the brim of his
mug, winked, and dipped his toe in.
Don't be a mouse, be a lion
