Bliss Poem by Patti Masterman

In the wake of the coming departure
Opportunities are opening up
Future synchronicities and eccentricities
Begin to orbit in the distance
Your eyes can only see things far away now
I know when the dust resettles
This place may feel
Like an empty cathedral-
All the monk's gone on retreat;
Or a deserted schoolyard,
Lessons all ended
And the merry go round still making
A few hapless rotations
Only under its own steam.
All the children of summer
Living happily without shoes,
Safe from subversion
Still assured of the parental counter-weight
Even as you go bobbing away,
Upward into the jet stream,
On your own untethered flight of bliss.