Flying Past the City, Past the Harbor
Had there been no jets with their boom and fade, no Main Street parades
any other smile, would I ever then look past my own reflection, see the
way the world will dance.
And would I ever dare the dream: you, out there with your distant
light, my glimmer in the far-reach. Would I believe that hope is the tide that
carries you in, the breath beneath these wings, the horizon where we
water and sky, water and sky.
Darling, there is a sweet and nearing someday.