Summer 2006

Air Born

Just born.
Plucked from your blood filled and septic womb.
I have only known you
And you are nearly departed.

My legs, like wings, beat the still night air.
The first step of my journey will not come for many months;
I will lurch forward on feet, curled like the quarter moon,
And just as white.

I have not lain with you on the warm, wet, sod;
Touched green with my nose, hands or feet.
Learned -- no matter the height from which I fall --
That the sweet, dark, fertile earth, I have not yet touched,
Will catch me always.

I know nothing of the earth.
All I know of water is in my mouth and on my lips.
I live in the loving caress of air it holds me.
A breeze kisses me gently on my cheek, my eyes turn up a smile.
No one is closer to me than air; no one attempts to be.

My despair, carried into the charcoal-night by airs sweet breath --
Floats -- buttressed by soil, rich, newly turned, and ready to sprout.