Thin Air Preference

a poem

Photo by Joshua Reddekopp

I’m [un] well 
aware I try to fly 
like leaping fleas, 
with legs too heavy,
kicking feet, 
before committing 
to crawling.
The honey 
is the ground I cover 
before crashing.
The perspective grasped
before failure, vast.
I can always crawl-to walk-to run 
later. But I don’t want to 
                    get comfortable 
on the bottom.
I prefer thin air, 
my head in the clouds, 
open sky, and birds around.

N.J. SIMAT

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