I fly

I fly at night,

while I write

of places I could be.

In an ocean

by the beach,

or lost behind a tree.

I fly at night,

the ground so cold

to walk on with my feet.

At night I fly,

to see the people

walk along the street.

I see them come,

I see them go,

why and where

I do not know.

I fly at night

and wonder why,

I watch the people

pass on by.

They come and go,

they dream I know,

to fly . . .

and I know why.

                        D. Carlson

- Copyright 2006 -