By Karla Linn Merrifield
The 6:40 flight from Fort Myers
to Orlando rumbles overhead
and boogies on toward Disney.
But I’m staying put, making
for the life of me like a live oak tree.
Two nights ago in a dream
I became one. Now I know why.
Not Mickey Mouse.
I’ll take Spanish moss.
Not Goofy, but epiphytes.
Not even Seven Dwarfs
when I can have lichen.
Nary Beauty, nary Beast.
Come, thou, vines.
My Magic Kingdom dwells
on limbs amid resurrection fern.