piety in motion


Bloated with hot air,
the balloon finds loftiness
thrilling.
Drifting casually over
landscape from
remote, outlying perch.
Scarcely sweeping ground,
but pretending that it
knows the feel of
dirt. It only knows
the easiness of breeze.
Yet it hovers above
with its gift filled
wicker basket,
occasionally dropping packages below
like birdshit charity.
Fat and high.
Colorful.
Demanding every pair of eyes’ devotion.
My swollen friend,
we all look up to you,
not meaning to admire you,
so puffed up with your piety
you can’t touch down.



© 2001, Arden Davidson