Flight.
I know eventually I'll come back
down but for now, I'm studying clouds
that are really just sheets collecting
wind on a horizon that is thin and made of
twine between two trees.
And the moment right before I hit the ground,
I take it down, clothespin in hand,
and savor the scent of it.
I stretch the fibers of time
between my fingers, pretending
to believe I'm really flying.
When the wet grass welcomes
my body back to reality, I dream
that it's less of a fall than letting
go but I will always wish
to see those shapes dancing,
made of something more
than wind.
down but for now, I'm studying clouds
that are really just sheets collecting
wind on a horizon that is thin and made of
twine between two trees.
And the moment right before I hit the ground,
I take it down, clothespin in hand,
and savor the scent of it.
I stretch the fibers of time
between my fingers, pretending
to believe I'm really flying.
When the wet grass welcomes
my body back to reality, I dream
that it's less of a fall than letting
go but I will always wish
to see those shapes dancing,
made of something more
than wind.