A child, I’d raise my arms, plea to mother
or father to grasp me within strong hands,
lift me from earth, see all from another
god’s view, become him or her, understand
without knowing how rising protects us,
provides new perspectives. I’d discover
powerful plateaus of tabletops, fuss
over cabinets’ contents, turn lover
to cool sweep from refrigerator’s wing,
laugh when saved from enticing ceiling fans,
spread my arms like sun rays, hear myself sing
when carried outside to witness titans
shading our vast field, heads swaying, vessels
searching sky where everything’s possible.
Roger Armbrust
July 13, 2010
