Bardo dreams
sealed in plastic cocoons,
hovering above the frozen earth,
half-formed, neither here nor gone.

Their hulls stretch against shrink-wrap skin,

ghostly outlines of a season past,

suspended between water and sky,

adrift in winter’s forgotten light.

A scaffold of waiting,

a silence thick as frozen tides,

where memory curls like vapor,

lost between longing and return.

No wake, no passage,

only the wind’s slow hands

pressing whispers into plastic,

holding time in absent motion.

Vineyard Haven, Massachusetts