small things

small things

A Poem by Kevin McKenna

I’ve always dreamed of flying. Not flying in an airplane or on a bird or with wings nor some fancy schmancy contraption, or on a pterodactyl. So maybe, it isn’t really
flying. It might just be called floating. I can imagine myself being tied to a
cloud and floating off into an endless sky. Now, I never imagine myself
floating in grey skies or on rainy days. I can kind of see myself floating over
mountains and oceans and deserts, but what really drives this desire, this
desire to float, is the sky. The sky in this land called the Mid-West is
endless; some have claimed it to be confining and makes them nauseous, however
I find it to be a bit like a dream. I have come to the conclusion as I stare
out over fields and see the sky kiss the ground, and, at points where I can see
the sun making love to the ground, those endless blue skies are the single
greatest features of what it means to dream upon waking. With every movement I
make, I am moving through the translucent atmosphere that composes these skies
that form the roof above our head.

 

I like on days like these, mentioned above, to lay out on the grass, preferably under a tree as to avoid the bright sunlight. But as I lay I count the white clouds
that fluff and contort to make every imaginable image or shape. My imagination
could be hung by a cloud. Just slip the noose right around it and c’est la vie.

 

Now that I think about it, there are two types of skies that will forever hold captive my imagination. The first being that endless blue expanse spattered with clouds of
white, the other is the pitch black dotted by stars. However, in my wanderings
of night skies I have come to realize that neither are confining. Slip in my
head phones and I’ll be off skipping on the constellations, twirling to unseen
rhythms, keeping time to unknown beats. Lying out among the fields of Wisconsin I find myself
lost on the Big Dipper, chasing after the shooting star, maybe I’ll make a wish
on the first one I spot maybe the tenth or twelfth.

 

And when I can’t find the stars, is when I’ll start to feel confined. When I can’t look out and see the endless blue nothing. But it has to be something, if not just the roof above our heads. I’ll always
walk with my head tilted and my eyes to the sky, not necessarily looking for
something but examining the world’s atmosphere. The stars will light the night
and white clouds will clarify the day.

 

I’ll be up when I’m up, and down when I’m down, but there is nothing that can make a day better than a clear blue sky maybe dotted with white fluffy clouds, and a clear black night
alighted by twinkling stars. Oh, a chance to dream. Hopefully the trip won’t be
too hard. I’ve done this before.

 

Sun comes up and we’ll start all over again.

 

© 2010 Kevin McKenna


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Added on November 3, 2010
Last Updated on November 3, 2010

Author

Kevin McKenna
Kevin McKenna

Chicago, IL



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Poptimist. Optimist. Starry-eyed. Dreamer. People are my religion more..

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