Li Bai flew. Qu Yuan, too.
Winged people rising
Into the dark golden air.
Time for flying poetry.
Daughter wants to fly.
Daughter has always wanted,
Under her own power, to rise.
Age two, she jumped off benches
Wearing cloth ladybug wings.
Her first wish in a fountain,
Fistfuls of coins to ascend.
Nothing less, not choppers, jets,
Gliders, or hot air balloons,
Would do. Soon, soon, I’ll see her
On her horizon,
Her arms bearing clouds,
Embracing dark golden air,
Vanishing from view.
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