What if Swift’s flying island
Wasn’t floating but falling,
In for the long fall,
The way that the moon
Has been this whole time falling
Spin by spin away from earth
Out into eternity
Or might as well be?
Ordinary life
Is like that flying island
Falling slowly as the moon.
Tonight, another evening,
Crescent moon through the window,
And the ground coming closer.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.