If I had a flying carpet,
I'd fly you to the falls
to watch the rainbows shimmer
in the rock-spewn mists
of Niagra's reckless plunge.
Or stand with you at sunset
at Big Bend's mystic window:
gazing at the pastel layers
merged with the western sky.
Or we'd lower a canoe
in a Missouri stream
on a star-jeweled moonlit night
listening to the dulcet songs
of gentle waves against the shore
and the hum of an insect choir.
But I have no magic carpet
to whisk you off to peaceful vistas:
only these feeble runes
scratched on a field of white.
Still, I wish that we could get away -
that is -
if you can spare the time.
September, 2007
Robert Charles Howard
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/landscapes-3/
