A Huckleberry Wish

I wish I was lounging on a raft in the soft of night, drifting down Big River with a friend named Jim, wafting a timeless path through shadowy shoreline woods obnoxious with sing-songing chirrups and twinkling glow-fly winklings, our bare feet dipped cool in black water, and our fingers bent easy ’round polished cane poles. Our hushed voices might whisper of the stars and how they were born of the moon, or maybe how Jim, like the moon, longed to hold his own babies once again.

I wish benevolent tides would course us around the lies and hatred of the world to a better place, our raft easy-like in the currents, our peaceful, like minds float-on floating.