Sabbatical
Sometimes I wish I could not exist
In the world for a while.
It's not that I wish to leave this life
In exchange for another somewhere else.
Nor would I want to erase my footprints
From the soils of existence;
I'd just like to unzip and step out of my body,
Like someone arriving home
After a long, cold day takes off their coat
And hangs it gently in the closet
For tomorrow.
If I could, I'd like to float around
In the cosmos for a while;
Looking down on earth without weight,
Seeing how close I could get to the sun
Before the heat forces me back.
I would try to grab hold of a star,
And watch it glow in my hands.
And when it starts descending,
Catch it by its tail, and ride it down to earth again.
But if I decided not to go that far,
I could settle for climbing oak trees.
As a kid, I remember following
Their long, crooked trunks with my eyes,
Thinking they looked so tall they could
Brush the sky with their branches;
Tangling the clouds in their leaves.
I'd like to climb a tree that high.
Maybe not so high as to grab stars,
But high enough to feel their heat.
I'd climb along the dry, silvery branches
One by one until I was at the top,
Where I could rest myself against the trunk
And look down at an orange fire
Burning in the gloom of spring twilight;
Safe from the flames, and only being touched
By the distant smell of smoke.