Walk On Air

“I read the news today, oh boy.”  —Lennon & McCartney

walk on air and there’ll be spring in your step
or summer in it, and in
your steps of fall and winter too

easy on your feet dancing a dream
down a hometown street before you blew
innocence with visions of mañana

which became more real than the dry perfume of leaves:
that cracked crisp under your feet
became more colossal in the bony box of your skull
than breath breezing off a lighted lake
your place of play and mute prayer under blue
or in a coagulating mist
a convocation of ghosts you’d one day kiss?

walk on air, meet the hawk; one turns now
overhead black against a bleached sky
black as the crow exploring a foreground of lumped soil
strutting beyond haphazard witch-grass where tomato stakes are ranked
lasting into autumn abutting rows of leaves of ruby beets

walk on air into the orbit of their sweet globes
walk on air into the earthy flavor of them
into dreamtime when work and sweat
were raw pleasures drawn out, absolute
sustaining, undilute, remaining rife
in seconds longer than the last chord
of A Day In The Life

Jim Culleny


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