Musings on Second Life

Mossy table, dragonfly wings whip the sky.

Air humid with chirping cicadas and croaking frogs.

Music soft and sweet.

The visions lay behind a screen,

The music forged by metal and rubber,

Yet I see it, hear it, and feel it all the same.

Is it truth, or is it false? And who am I to ask?

A busty blue jay sits in a cafe and drinks her evening coffee.