At the end of things.

Floating on
a slow-moving river

in the spring
or fall

stretched out on a raft
eyes to the sky

watching the light
blink through the leaves

perpetual afternoon

and I'm heading for

a mountainside cottage
nestled in green and yellow grass

or a turn-of-the-century
house on the plains

or open arms

and it may take me
an eternity to decide

***

that's what

heaven

will be.