HOT AIR BALLOON RIDE
Bright primary colors stripe the balloon,
contrast blue sky.
Above the flame, I see a peaceful abstract picture.
The air is almost still - just enough breeze
to push us along.
Neighborhood dogs greet us, sound the alarm,
and run away.
Area residents point at us. We wave, but
turn down a coffee invitation. We prefer to float.
The pilot says he must ascend again.
We applaud, but hold our breath
until we've topped the trees.
I watch our shadow decrease on the ground.
We welcome quiet when the pilot turns off
helium flames, and
the balloon lands gently in an open field.
This brings us back to earth and reality.
Neighbors mob us for short rides,
while my husband helps hold the tethers.
Often I close my eyes when I want to float,
not think about daily chores.
I imagine I'm again nine-hundred feet
above the ground.
I want to sing like a sparrow after a stormy day.
The ride was over too soon.
When I'm typing, the phone is ringing, and I'm late,
I'll remember this day.
Thank you, God, for the opportunity to float
above my troubles.
2005 - Faith and Spirit chapbook2
2012 - Pastiche of Poetry, Volume II
2013 - God, My Greatest Love