NEW ENGLAND: BALLOONS

Que paseo! What a ramble!
Six lightning-zigzagged poppies:
Peonies and dahlias waft in gentle Dignity down the valley, silent Between bursts of hot gas.

Cars stop and faces lift
Washed with early morning delight.
Straight up I photograph the basket
Beneath the blossom passing the moon.

In the evening we walk to the village green
To watch a huge purple tulip
Held captive by nylon vines
Rise and descend like an elevator.

Suddenly wind ruffles the petals.
A hefty, passenger dismounts in vain.
The silken tower sways and topples,
Pants and heaves on the ground like a sulky
Elephant. Men shout and tug
Out the last whisper of air.

Then like a tiny spaceship launching
Out of trees, a child’s helium
Balloon escapes into the darkening sky.
We watch until it winks out of sight.

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