A Better Place

Behind my eyelids
Is an intimate
Screen
Upon which is displayed
Every manner of sensory
Delight.

Last night
I journeyed in
A horse-drawn surrey
Across idyllic meadowlands
Into a leafy canopy
Of splendid timber.

My mind
Filled in the blanks.

I knew the presence
Of an unseen
Companion
That journeyed with me
Silently
Warmly.

I inhaled the zephyr of
Aromas.

Blond grasses
Freshly mown
Were bundled onto trailers
For storage as winter feed.

Wildflowers
In and out of season
Pale blue
Yellow and burgundy bloomed
Fragrancing the red clay road.

The regular clomping
Of my horse’s hooves
Counted cadence
To the passing of seconds
Minutes and hours.

No contrails
Unzipped the sky.
No jangle of devices
Marred the moment
No hurry
No distraction.

The destination
Was not the matter.
Every particular was contained
In the pleasant passage.

So unlike the buzz and bluster
The hurry and hoo-doo
Of contemporary transport
My imagination
Became a conduit of conveyance
Taking me to a place
Unreached by a century and a half
Of “refinement.”

I must close my eyes more often.

Transition to the soul’s
Better place
Is but a membrane distant.