First IPad Poem

If

What if, instead of dying flowers, perfume

smelled like mountaintops, like granite

and fir-filtered wind?  Breezes lift our feet

from the rock and fragrance-scented air

buoys us up over golden rows of mountains.

You laugh like a child taking his first step

out onto the taut surface of water

and instead of sinking, we skate

on that tensile surface that quivers

like my heart when you reach

the long pin feathers of your wings

and wrap them all light and tickle

and remember around me.

Mary Stebbins Taitt

for Keith

first poem on Ipad,

1000618-1557-2b(3), 100617