Applejack
I felt a lift,
a thermal high
and out the corner
of my eye
saw angel wings
recalling angels fly --
thinking myself to give
it a try; no halo, of course,
just arms and hands
nor feathers for glide,
yet sensed a certified
flying-couch on each side
offering me
a heavenly ride~
higher and higher,
into ever dearer
light – beyond our sun
we flew out of sight
zooming passed stars,
red, blue and white...
planets and moons
far smaller yet bright,
each one, its own guardian
of great mystic, celestial
might --
(seeming less to matter
which wrong or more right) --
back home, in my easy
porch-chair, the morning
dawn bringing our usual breath
of clearer fresh air – feathers
fading from my sleepy
morning inner sight
an old man, blind, rocker-bound,
out for a night --
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