Two Poems

In Preparation for Our Landing

Thirty thousand feet above the ground,

he’s reading and munching on peanuts

and Cheetos, thinking about what he

wants to be when he grows up, even
though he knows he’s already grown up,
when he realizes he already is what he
wants to be when he grows up, that it
never has been about yearning and
desire and wanting but being, simply. The
pilot turns on the fasten seatbelt sign.

Skipping Stones

To teach the child, the man

skips a stone across the pond;

the light splashes propel each
flying motion onward, until
without notice or warning or
even a casual glance backward
it sinks.

In perfect imitation, the child
throws another stone,
splashing the noonday sun
reflecting the liquid glass that
the flying stone, in one final
burst of movement, still cannot
shatter.

Photographs: "Blues" and "Rock and Stream" by Nancy Rosback. Used with permission.