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Here you will find the writings of the poet Theodore Waterfield


They escape gravity on the trampoline.
The wild wonder of flying.
Touching the apogee of white hail
before the savage passion of the wind
flings them to the rocks and canyons
of the earth.
The eyes of the children
are flowers of lightning.
They rise wingless in the air.
The trampoline is their
thunderbolt. A fiesta.
I waited at the rear of the line
for a turn,
one time before the gate was closed.
One instant to be like them
joining the heavens.

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