Ballooning.
Peaceful, fat, bouncy, coloured clouds
that are nice enough to lower a basket
for puny humans to enjoy
their delightful exhilaration.
Foolish grins spread ear to ear,
basket to basket,
like lighting in a thunderstorm,
unstoppable,
exhilarating,
electric.
Above the world,
Nothing between you and the earth
But woven grass.
Dipping and bouncing.
Quiet,
No sound but the wind in your ears,
The rush and shoo of the intermittant burner,
And the supressed giggles of glee
That bubble up and go chasing after the birds.
The sky is so blue
It makes your heart ache
To think it will go away
With the day.
The sun,
Brilliant on the neat squares of farms
Between the white winding
Streamers of road.
Settled elation
What more can you ask for.
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