Shadowing O over hills,
and daisy stem dales,
looping betwixt clouds
as free as it damn rubbery pleases,
flies the big, beautiful balloon,
and a bright, quirky sphere it is.
It follows steaming trains
without getting quite popped
simply just for the drop
of condensed air meeting gas,
and faces pressed to glass
in small wonder, fingers
of disbelief all up pointing.
Aloft over cities flies it too,
tall chimneys salute its passes,
and stack up proudly to see
freedom mooned up up in the sky;
heads lifted from pavements
of open-mouthed masses.
Unincumbered orb that it is,
only when it just wishes
will it descend to earth in town,
and then to drop its written tag down,
which is nothing if not concise.
“You’ve read of me, mate,
now please, don’t let me defl……”
