After the rain, I leap over wider and wider puddles with my feet gliding above the water, landing each time Olympic-style with arms flung out. More jumping—up and down steps, one or two at a time, then three, four . . . soon, I am swooping up and down steep staircases. "It's a bird? A plane? It's Super Girl!"
each skate key twist
closes the gap
Under the dark of the moon, I glide tree-top to tree-top, pushing off high branches again and again. Then, with a wild heart, I fly up into the sky greeting dawn with waxed wings and blinded eyes.
Now, I double-check my seat belt, close the airplane window shade and doze into another business trip.
of old dreams