Flying

Flying, flying, flying,
over those fields, those familiar fields,
the clouds, the well-known clouds,
and those mountains everyone has seen from above;
they are dreams lived repeatedly,
and nothing new is known about them here.
But still, flying, flying, flying
is as welcome as home, dear home,
till waking takes us from the air
to a darkened room,
and leaves the dreams still flying.

December 4 2018