Flying Along

Flying Along

Flying along

Big and Strong

me and Dad

above the clouds-

How the valleys

in the clouds

reflect the valleys

on the ground.

My father's hands

are thick and brown,

his eyes are creased

with many a frown.

His breath is thick

with sour beer 

and nicotine is always near.

No albatros nor eagle

has wings which reach as far

as Pappy's in a Cessna

(or Jon inside his car.)

Between the Son and Father

The Poet writes away

The words which grab at meaning

The words he needs to say.

With all eyes closed

and silence spoken

the memories

are soft unbroken.

Now sky, now ground

Now seaward bound

And in the night

Come take flight

and spread your wings

above all things.

fly eagle proud

above the cloud...

A lazy eight

would sure be great

a stall and dive

to feel alive

Like words in a song

Flying along

I'm always glad

To fly with Dad.