dancing on our tiptoes
arms among clouds
our throats turned to birdsong
and eyes star-bound.

How Could We Return To Earth.

soon though
as want to do
our fuel ran cold.
sparks to splutters to shudders to crawls to fingernails dragging the atmosphere
           back
down
           with
us.

clipped wings
our shoes seem so heavy
"I want to be rooted"
"I want to be planted"
"I want to be free."
*"Before I dream of what the sky-"