I lingered on the hill
where my father often walked
as a boy, perhaps daydreaming
just like I was, eyes
deep in their sockets
so not to see too much.
Then my eyes peered out
of their sweet recess
to see the sidewalk ahead
no longer carrying my father.
I ran, my feet pounding
the sloping squares
of muted light bridging
over the swell of land
that suddenly became air.
My surprised legs floundered
then wheeled mysteriously
as I swam through sky,
somersaulting once, again,
my fingers brushing
concrete as a heel bumped
against the railing
of the stairs leading down
to where my father stood waiting.
His mouth opened
as I somehow landed,
staggering but still standing,
as his first son, eyes
slowly peering out again
after a dream just lived.
-- John Lee Clark