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Taxing the limits of gravity,

swinging ever higher, thrusting tiny

shoes toward a misty ceiling.

Restrained only by thin

links to an arc:

Restrained from flight.

Brushing low, then elevating heavenward,

propelled into weightlessness.

A Dove flutters in them.

Working to flee from exalted mouths,

This spirit flies aloft as the links slacken

Bringing an uncomfortable silliness to tiny chests.

Again and again they kick.

Searching for the ecstatic

high of weightlessness.

Circling above, an Eagle, unrestrained.

Aloft it flutters on a gust,

Dipping and dropping.

Hovering above the park

the Eagle waits for a Dove

to exodus from a child’s throat.

Suspended above the playground,

waiting for the moment to snatch that joy

and tear it with its talons.