Balloon (Poetry)

The ride’s sedate — this slow glissade
the parting air — the sensate rush
as sounds below recede and fade
while all around us hangs a hush.

The altitude affords a view
the birds take as their natural right
we peer and point, exclaim and coo
at town and river, hill and dyke.

As passengers we crave the thrill
of flying just for flying’s sake —
the novelty such acts fulfil
a rare excitement teased awake.

To spend an August afternoon
adrift in wide cerulean skies
untrammelled — blissfully immune
to gravity’s constraining ties.

A matchless freedom — bourne aloft
with new perspectives to explore
while cares dissolve and kind winds waft —
allow our earthbound spirits soar.