Falling, falling through thin air
Jet stream wind rush through my hair
Spinning, spinning, arms go round
Patchwork quilt of far off ground
Trusting, hoping in that lever
Since I can’t go on falling forever
Speeding, speeding, accelerating
Held in flying limbo, waiting
Pulling, pulling the parachute free
A whoosh of fabric unfolds above me
Slowing, drifting so safely down
A paper airplane in a cloud-filled town
After the chugging blade I trudge
Shredding stems of grass
Into confetti strewn in starburst spray
Ahead, the long, unruly mane
Behind, a close-cropped sheen
Earth’s crisp soft hairdo for a brand new day
I walked along a wide cool street
As the sun was rising
Yawning beams of light above the rooftops
Crisp leaves skittered past my feet
Flecks of gold horizon
Dewdrops perched on twigs in glassy drops
I felt the bite of autumn’s chill
Riding cloud wings in
Chasing off the lingering asphalt heat
Brittle scents of dried things spilled
Like syrup on my skin
Mixed with earthy mums and pumpkins sweet
I heard the honking call of geese
In V-shapes through the sky
Towboat fleets escorting winter here
While squirrels leapt through turning trees
To bury nuts nearby
And build warm burrows to sleep out the year
Bright orange barrels, pointed cones
Waddling along fast freeway roads
Rubber ducks lined up in weaving rows
Blocking off great chunks of lanes
Squeezing traffic into narrow streams
So close one flick fells all the dominoes
City streets of bumpy rock
Asphalt scraped to corduroy
Acrid scent from sticky pavement piping
Piles of dirt round drainage ditches
Muddy puddles, roped-off sidewalks
Lines of paint in white and yellow striping
Bridges out, work at the tracks
Miles of country road are closed
Marbles roll on detours, long and late
Flagger ahead on one-way lanes
Wait forever while no one goes
Welcome to Ohio, the orange barrel state
Unique New York, new squeak to torque
He knew she threw three free throws
We shall surely see the sun shine soon
For wetter weather gets harder as it goes
Rugged rubber baby buggy bumpers
Full of yellow leather feather flight
By the worsted switch of an Irish wristwatch
We light a nightlight for a night like tonight
