Airborne
Like a virus or a whiff of halitosis. Like orange sailing in a perfect arc, then swish! Like words surfing waves to find your ears. Like a bird. Like a drone. Like a kiss blown over fingertip cliffs. Like every uncertain thing. Like everything. Like every goddamn thing.
Photo by Untitled Photo on Unsplash
The Prompt
Over the past month or so, I’ve been working on a poetry collection. There’s a deadline looming for an award for Kentucky-based poets who have never before published a full-length collection—just one will be chosen for publication. The odds are low that my book will be the winner, but the process of identifying themes, selecting poems, revising them, writing a few new ones, and arranging it all into an order that makes sense has been so much fun. It’s been worth the effort, regardless of outcome. The working title of my collection is “Airborne”, named after this poem, which I originally called “The Politeness of Birds.”
As soon as I settled on the title for the collection, though, a second poem with the same title spilled right out of me—the poem I just shared at the top of this post. It won’t go into the collection, since I don’t think it fits the theme or vibe, and also, if I manage to get published, I really need my mom to buy lots of copies to give to her friends, and she might not do that if I take the Lord’s name in vain (sorry, Mom).
The word airborne feels really evocative to me. It takes my mind in a dozen directions. And so today, I’m offering that word to you as a prompt. Where does the word airborne carry you? Straight to viruses and masking? To traveling in an airplane? To dandelion seeds blown on the wind? Or somewhere else entirely different—somewhere entirely unique to you, perhaps?
Over and over, you all wow me with your creativity and your willingness to come along with me on this wild poetry ride. I just write whatever poems comes up inside me. You poor darlings elect to work with prompts, which frankly seems much harder to me (maybe that’s just a me thing?). In any case, my hat goes off to you. My hat is airborne in your presence, one might say.
I look forward to reading what you share!
Today’s offering, not yet finished: I never really consider them finished until they have sat for a few months.
Airborne
Feathers quiver catching the updraft
Soaring on the breeze.
The smallest of adjustments
to hover, to glide, to fly
to induce a dramatic dive.
Shrill whistles echo over the valley
Imperceptibly high a dot in the sky
Blue above, green below.
Wingtips thrum in the swirling wind,
Floating in the air.
I hear him, look up, and he is gone.
I catch my breath or perhaps
It catches me
I stretch my arms and feel
The lift on my chest, my arms,
Then my legs and toes
And I am aloft - rising gently
Over amazed tiny spectators down below
My lungs fill with warm power
Each breath lifts me higher
Rising, soaring, I am Peter Pan
The joy of flight…
But then I stir, coming awake
So sad that it was just a dream
Backstory: this is one of my favorite dreams, recurring from childhood, and I still have even now, from time to time.