one by one, yellow balloons are
lost and let go of
nodding and bobbing and side-
stepping in a slow
skyward dance
their white strings caress the
outlines
of cedar
below this aerial choreography
two girls swing dance to the trembling beats
of hannah georgas crooning
over the sun-soaked crowd
and a smaller one is spun around
in airy circles
defying the call of earth
as long as her mother holds on
I dropped my heart here, somewhere
between landing past clean moving sea and
looking up at blue mountain iced-cake tops
years ago, now
and have not yet found
where to retrieve it
it is my last summer here, for a while
(because I do not admit, even to
myself, that change
happens and it might not be
just a while);
the coming loss persists in thought,
reminds me moment by moment
how it all moves away through me
past my ghostly grasping
so I ravel these nows into lines
strategically stored in memory for later
when I may need to follow the thread
that lifts my spirit from a lonely place
to the yellow balloon floating so high
it is now simply another whisper of cloud
