I’m flying past familiar terrain,
a few loop-de-loops
around the domestic carousel,
spinning faster and faster.
I could try a rainforest canopy,
just for a change of scene:
ethereal green, a parrot or two for company –
just a change.
My daughter’s almost ready
for her own launch,
vapour trail of childhood.
Wonderment, exhaustion elasticized
the first mothering years.
Now time collapses on itself,
seasons leapfrogging along.
I know it’s September
by my back-to-school dream.
Memory rags of my other lives
flap behind me,
colours rather faded,
but a bit of red flickers
if I look back (not often these days).
Mostly I feel momentum fight gravity,
pulling me into the curve ahead.
