Touching down.

chadwick

Broadcasting,
we’re ongoing
riding aerial acrobatics
and angels.

There goes one in white
spewing itself
through bluer than soft blue.

Somehow
light
and night
mean nothing to us.

We are the contorted shiftings of time
in visual.

Eyes together
arrange brilliance through shine
sometimes death
a shooting star tombstone to life.

We have not the answers
but when the sea
scrapes our toes flying
we’ll laugh
while building sandcastles
from under a moon
of least silver.

And with delight
dancing through us blowing
we’ll give way to soft grass
and sun.