Leaving the lake one early April morning
in a beautiful balloon
with Mo, to celebrate our birthdays
in the year 2000..
another wonderful gift from Steve.
Compared to skydiving this is a gentle way to fly.
It must be the gentlest way to travel in the world.
The gas burner blasts and then the balloon silently ascends
like a dream
floating above reality,
so peacful.
The lake
below is a mirror,
a Monet garden of water lilies.
Over the houses we go,
gardens neat and tidy.
So many trees in this city!
God.. it is so beautiful!
Punga tree ferns are circles of green in remnants of bush,
like big green dinner plates.
Dogs bark and run madly in circles around their sections.
Cats dart across lawns, into shrubberies and over walls.
Children come running out in their pyjamas calling to parents to come and see!
The children wave and we wave back like celebrities.
Adults look out of windows and from behind curtains.
Some come outside and hold babies up to see.
Some peek around corners.
Over the river we float
and up over tall eucalyptus trees.
Mo leans out and plucks a leaf from the top of a tree.
Such a glorious thing is a ride in a hot-air balloon.
We finally land with a bumpity bump
in a field behind an orchard just out of town.
We kneel and kiss the earth and say a little French prayer
of thanksgiving for a safe journey..
and a champagne toast at the lake.
'The winds have welcomed you with softness.
The sun has blessed you with its warm hands.
You have flown so high and so well..
that God has joined you in your laughter and set you gently back
into the loving arms of Mother Earth'
in a beautiful balloon
with Mo, to celebrate our birthdays
in the year 2000..
another wonderful gift from Steve.
Compared to skydiving this is a gentle way to fly.
It must be the gentlest way to travel in the world.
The gas burner blasts and then the balloon silently ascends
like a dream
floating above reality,
so peacful.
The lake
below is a mirror,
a Monet garden of water lilies.
Over the houses we go,
gardens neat and tidy.
So many trees in this city!
God.. it is so beautiful!
Punga tree ferns are circles of green in remnants of bush,
like big green dinner plates.
Dogs bark and run madly in circles around their sections.
Cats dart across lawns, into shrubberies and over walls.
Children come running out in their pyjamas calling to parents to come and see!
The children wave and we wave back like celebrities.
Adults look out of windows and from behind curtains.
Some come outside and hold babies up to see.
Some peek around corners.
Over the river we float
and up over tall eucalyptus trees.
Mo leans out and plucks a leaf from the top of a tree.
Such a glorious thing is a ride in a hot-air balloon.
We finally land with a bumpity bump
in a field behind an orchard just out of town.
We kneel and kiss the earth and say a little French prayer
of thanksgiving for a safe journey..
and a champagne toast at the lake.
'The winds have welcomed you with softness.
The sun has blessed you with its warm hands.
You have flown so high and so well..
that God has joined you in your laughter and set you gently back
into the loving arms of Mother Earth'
It is so beautiful Joan. The whole thing, the balloon and your poem. It must really have been a wonderfull experience.
ReplyDeleteGrethe
Thank you Grethe. You suggested I might do this..so here it is. It was wonderful.
ReplyDeleteThis sounds so fun, plucking a leaf from the top of a tree. I can imagine it's a really good feeling, being up there. Your poem captures the adventure beautifully.
ReplyDeleteIt has been such a delight watching you fly, Joan - from out of a plane and in a balloon. What magical adventures to have.
ReplyDeleteGorgeous! I felt like I was with you in the basket, Joan!
ReplyDeleteHow lovely! The closing lines are beautiful!
ReplyDeleteWhat a beautiful air journey: I enjoyed floating with you and seeing the world from a balloon.
ReplyDelete