Flying lessons

by Fliss

This Autumn, George alone is teaching flight;
the children’s mother, Zelda, died in June.
The six-month cygnets group in amber light;
perhaps another lesson might be soon?
I’m always anxious at this time of year,
as Flying Season sometimes heralds death
by powerlines or trees. The slightest veer,
a broken neck and rattling final breath.

Yet “Come!” George snorts, and all extend their wings
while raising heads and chests above the lake,
their strong feet paddling; in a flash of rings
they run, ascend the mellow air and make
a fleeting V before the swift descent,
all safe, for now, and cheeping-ly content.

- - -
Published in Snakeskin, November 2021


366th Weekly Poetry Contest
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Comments

MyNAh_27's picture
Fliss, I love the subtlety and nuance embedded in this entry. Flight is another layered metaphor in every sense. The very best of luck M

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Mohamed Sarfan's picture
Dear Poeter, The human mind is always flying in an infinite imaginary sky. Outside the float the man collects memories and retrieves them in cases of little isolation. Flying is the curiosity of thoughts for every human being. But, there are no wings on the shoulders; The wings have been shown solely to give a sense of proportion. This is the essence of life. The life of the pilots touches the Himalayas like the thoughts of a bird. But, ordinary people who want to fly fly into the mind and fall into it. The path of life full of billions of characters, the innumerable fantasies and realities in the journeys are just raining down in the mind like raindrops. This poem really impressed me Fliss. All The Best My Dear Friend; Write More Congratulations

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Fliss's picture
Dear Mohamed, Many thanks for these very interesting thoughts on the poem. I like what you write about curiosity and wings, especially for the Himalayas leading into the path of life and the raindrops. I'm glad the poem impressed you! The best to you, dear friend, Fliss :-)

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