Sometimes I want to stand

at the top of a mountain

& holler

louder than thunder

until my anguish & frustration

bounce off the granite walls

& reverberate down into the valleys,

until all the critters scamper away

& the leaves fly off the trees

& the clouds in the sky part like theater curtains

& the hand of God reaches down 

& lifts me up & away

to another planet.

Maybe I could hang out with Le Petit Prince & his beautiful beloved rose?

Oh well, then I climb down the imaginary mountain

& start sweeping dust 

& gathering wild weed flowers

into a pretty bouquet

& once again find

peace.