Balloon Landing
Through my open window,
Darth Vadar breathes from nearby—
the death-rattle of a voyager,
guttural gasps,
marking journey’s end.
We’ve watched their silent descent
from our window looking east,
progenitors of zeppelins long gone,
making landfall,
seeking empty desert—
spaces now fewer
as the city encroaches.
Six old guys
marveling like children:
the highlight of our day.
11 thoughts on "Balloon Landing"
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I love the Darth Vadar metaphor! Yes, that’s exactly what the burner sounds like.
Really nice sensory details, the spedificity, and the ending! < Every word holds its own in this poem. Every word belongs.
Thanks! I was hoping the metaphor worked–I’ve gradually come to know what the sound means, although yesterday it was Br Bruce turning on the hose to water the plants! Darn!!
The balloons landing in NM is something I’ve seen in media and have always wanted to experience. Thanks for allowing me to stand next to you six, a seventh observer enjoying the spectacle.
Thank you for taking me to the balloons in the desert.
Terrific poem!
Something really comforting about this: Six old guys
marveling like children:
the highlight of our day.
Great imagination at work here!
I love the lightness of the final image: “Six old guys/marveling like children…”
Wonderful! I also loved that last image!
Very nicely done. I could hear the pull of the ropes and the roar of the flames.
I always wanted to see them close up. Thanks for bringing this to life! The ending – priceless!