Don’t let disappointment be your
teacher, nor landing overcome
your joy of flight. If wingless is
your choice then walk with spring
not fall, your trip it is not over till
the clock has struck eleventeen.
Impossible, you say. Indeed!
So where’s the dread unless you can
with certainty proclaim the dead
are happy-less. Too many base
their choices on fatigue with rest
the goal, but what of all the rest?
Leap frog, dodge ball, skip to my Lou
any sweet thing to chase boo-hoo
a corny rhyme, a flirty blush
that leads in time to who knows what
you have to say it matters by
degrees you can’t imagine yet.
And when you know it matters well
the Universe she perks her ears,
Look, boys, we got a live one here!
Conspire, breathe with her, exercise
her wings, she’s still a little clums—
oops, no she isn’t. Volare!
*conciliis ultro: Latin, meaning “advice, above and beyond”
© Elaine Stirling, 2013
–photo of flying Canada geese