My Poetry Year: Entry #54

In which Your Humble Blogger wakes to the language of flight (sometimes, I like these introductory lines better than the poems they introduce):

"They Watched the Sky"

They watched the sky, and they saw
Airplanes turn their turbulent metal toward the sunset.
They watched the sky, and they saw
Ducks skirt the trees toward a place nestled in instinct.
They watched the work of wings
Until the language of flight woke in each of them.
They watched the sky, and they became poets.
And they knew, forever after that, how to get home.

* * *

Odd little poem. Seems to get better with each line, starting at a "meh" level and working its way a bit higher.

Most of the poems you read here have been typed up before, so sharing them here is a simple matter of cutting and pasting and editing for line breaks. This is one that I just typed up now, and it almost went through with a typo -- "sucks" instead of "ducks" in the fourth line. Tee hee hee.

The commentary suffers when I prepare these posts late at night.