From Space

You are smaller than I remember

And so is the house, set downhill

Afloat in a sea of scrub oak. From up here

It’s an ordinary box with gravel

Spread over its lid, weighting it, but

Inside it’s full of shadows and sky.

Clouds pull themselves over dry

Grass, which, if  I’m not mistaken, will erupt

Any minute in flame. Only

A spark, a sunbeam focused. From up

Here, enjoying the view, I can finally

Take you in. Will you wave back? I keep

Slingshotting around. There’s gravity

For you, but all I ever wanted was to fly.