Three in the Blue Gold Dream
Explore # 393 - 19.05.2009
There is no widening distance at the shore—
The sea revolving slowly from the piers—
But the one border of our take-off roar
And we are mounted on the hemispheres.
Above the waning moon whose almanac
We wait to finish continents away,
The Northern stars already call us back,
And silence folds like maps on all we say.
“Port of Aerial Embarkation” by John Ciardi, from Other Skies (Boston: Atlantic Monthly Press, 1947)