Imagine the air were water
Through which we move, we swimmers,
With our upright striding.
Water that we fold about us
For primordial warmth in bath or shower.
Or curtain of rain
Parting the lawn’s astonished children,
A body memory—jumping to wet to dry—
The same recall and fluted bone
That lets us float and spin above the dreamed landscape,
Carefree and fishy in the pearly light.
Just so, the stouthearted
Gaze into heaven’s darkness hoping for
Gravity’s rescission. Then
Plummet headfirst into that awesome Abyss.
There’s virtue in such scale,
Being the speck not the squall that
People still talk about: how it
Whipped into a storm that loomed miles over us,
We stargazers, we rocketeers,
Stunned by what we were taking in
And taken in by—dust up the hose,
A moment’s thrilling ride, then some other
Nothing at all.