I am in a canoe,

Lying flatly, comfortably on my back,

Looking up at the sky,

With its blueness,

Fleecy clouds wafting across its face.

Drifting,

Toward the twilight zone of the day,

Slowly,

Ever so slowly the sun kisses then eases past the western horizon.

Twilight,

Envelopes the sky and surrounds fading into grey surreality.

Stars,

Twinkle and stare from overhead as the canoe drifts further into the ocean of blackness.

Found,

In the early morning by a lone fisherman,

The canoe?

Empty.