April 9th, 2011

Byron

NATIONAL POETRY MONTH: A Poem for Yesterday

It still feels like Friday to me.

LANDSCAPE WITH FLYING MAN


His father fixed those wings to carry him away.

They carried him halfway home, and then he fell.
And he fell not because he flew,

but because he loved it so. You see,
it’s neither pride, nor gravity but love

that in the end will pull us back down to the world.
Love furnishes the wings, and that same love

will watch over us as we drown.
The soul makes a thousand crossings; the heart, just one.


© John Glenday