(C) Early 1980’s by Howard Dart Humeston
A single engine prop driven
all vermilion airplane flew right
over my head yesterday. The
sky, all blueness no clouds,
was sailing higher than usual
for this time of the year. But
still, the deep dark redness
of this puttering airplane
settled in my eyes.
I looked straight up into it’s
Christ-like cross, and suddenly
the sky was my eye, and the dark red
airplane was my pupil. The soft
purr of the clean engine
was my soul, idling in neutral.
Just floating in the ocean of my eye
sputtering and puttering about, like
an old man growing imaginary flowers
in the middle of his deep
pile carpet.