If the sky were solid
I’d carve a path into the waxy blue
a tiered length of white-capped
windblown azure stairs
to take me to the place
the crows call home
I’d forge my way across
the thin blue line
an explorer in a vast frontier
and I’d forget my life
discarding it
like a spent benefactor
shedding the heavy coil
of my old self
Until, of course, I happened to look down
at the leaf-strewn Earth
and remember my sorrow
I’d notice that the faded grass
is waking up beneath a season
of depleted seed, drifting
across my abandoned lawn
like seafoam
I’d witness how the wind
cradles the Earth
lifting the long-dead leaves
from the thawing ground
reanimating them,
and prying me
from my perch path in the sky