Postcard

Sometimes I see in the sky endless beaches
covered with a riot of nations in every hue.
Transparent flags wave
in the morning wind,
and I am away.
The moving collage beckons,
and without a second thought I lift up my head,
close my eyes, and dream
a million tiny spheres.
A distant sea approaches, and recedes.
Breath is immaterial
as the moment transcends
all others.