Outside the 747's window
a cloud is gray inside.
Emerge outside:
brilliant white and gold reflecting sun.

Below, beside the traveler,
cloud casts
deep blue pools,
colors farms, woods, roads.

That day in the two-seater,
flying under dense overcast,
then above it
inside a sunny day, cloud-floored,
that no one
saw who stayed on the ground.

Walking in fog,
moist, cold, on my face,
inside a globe
that moves with me,
revealing what is close,
then obscuring it — and me,
who can't see outside it.

Inside a dream,
a fluffy edge, white, blue,
growing denser deeper in,
creamy, yellow,
and opaque.

A dream is opaque, obscure,
in the dark,
despite nuances of light
that it portrays:
dusk, candle glow,
motes in a beam, flames,
fluorescent tubes (humming).
glare on wet.

In the dark
a dream's insight, when it comes, is
Inside out.