Air Borne
When I was three foot tall I could fly.
Now that I've reached near six and descending
things have become more, grounded.
It wasn't an aeronautical event or
some Newtonian physics explanation,
or even a Las Vegas prestidigitation,
it was merely that my mind, that is to say I,
could entertain the obvious conclusion
of the possibility that if events, things,
were just right - JUST right, that I
would be able to see a view I had not
seen up to that point in time, and,
in fact, haven't, for some time.
When I was a yard high in my front yard,
I could arise, even higher than a yard,
brightened, and too, wide-eyed wondering
at the way the neighborhood looked from
above the treetops...who knew, I thought.
Did I get there by that some certain gait,
neither too fast nor too slow, but,
like some Goldilocks visa, just right?
The sunshine vitamin D blowing breezily
around porch poles and branches to press my face.
Who knew indeed, who knows now, or soon,
what can occur without Google glasses,
or no child left behind or
digital synapses to bit-by-bit,
obscure the inherent, the wonder, the view
borne away from civilization facts
to life outside or, above our gravitations.
When I descend toward a vertical yard again,
maybe that obscurant vision-set I have
carried pensioned toward epilogue will
fall away like deciduous leaves and
I'll be able to see the branches under
life, and rise away again.
© Goode Guy 2013-07-05
Copyright © Goode Guy | Year Posted 2013
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment