Walk On Air

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

walk on air and there’ll be spring in your step—
summer, fall and winter too. easy on your feet
dreamdancing down a hometown street
before you blew innocence
on visions of mañana becoming more real
than the perfume of dry leaves
cracking crisp under feet, became
more colossal in your bonebox of skull
than breath breezing off the lit lake
your mute prayerplace under blue,
or in accumulating mist’s convocation
of ghosts you someday kneel to kiss
when the last train to Whoknows
comes through

walk on air, Hawk —one turns now
overhead, black in bleached sky,
black as the crow exploring
a foreground of lumped soil,
who struts beyond haphazard witch-grass
where tomato stakes are ranked
lasting into autumn’s abutting rows
of stemmed flags of ruby beets

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

Jim Culleny

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