Departure

[Hawkman]

The land bakes. The sweltering,
suffocating heat of summer blankets all.
But here, the wind of passage cools me.
Beneath the cloudless arch of time,
I stand and fly, dreaming but with waking eyes,
look down and see the ploughshare of the stem,
turn aside the seamless, blue-green silk of thought.
Sparkling, diamond beads break at the edges,
fold over, briefly on the surface, then merge,
again as one, without trace.
Below me, dolphins speed me on my way,
while at my back, the temporary scar of transit,
gently heals.

[Dark Muse]

This is beautiful, I love the feeling of breaking free from the constraining heat and flying free. There is such a freshness to the poem, and it captures such a lovely image.

[Hawkman]

Thanks, Muse. Standing in the eyes of a ship on such a day, when the water is too lazy even to ripple, and looking down at the bow wave as it folds aside, is a magical experience. You get lost in the moment and the sensation of flying above the water frees your thoughts to soar away on their own. Moments like these are the stuff of life.

H