Magnesium Threads Poem by Michael WheelerWyatt

The moon illuminates the clouds with magnesium threads
They drift by at the speed of the rushing wind
Perfume from exotic blooms hang in the ether like a fine silk veil
Sea flavoured water warms the coral sands lapping repeatedly like a dogs tongue on
the hottest day
Choices rise my pleasure gauge - which one?
The one, which produces the least guilt.
The one I cannot share with the real producers of my future memories
Aircon on, or off?
Global warming is real so maybe the door to my prison can stay open
The insecurity of paradise - of beings I don’t know
I finally sleep – knowing its one-day closer to my jet fuelled glide
To be with my children and my still wonderful bride
Good day Creole