If I had a flying carpet, <br />I'd fly you to the falls <br />to watch the rainbows shimmer <br />in the rock-spewn mists <br />of Niagra's reckless plunge. <br /> <br />Or stand with you at sunset <br />at Big Bend's mystic window: <br />gazing at the pastel layers <br />merged with the western sky. <br /> <br />Or we'd lower a canoe <br />in a Missouri stream <br />on a star-jeweled moonlit night <br />listening to the dulcet songs <br />of gentle waves against the shore <br />and the hum of an insect choir. <br /> <br />But I have no magic carpet <br />to whisk you off to peaceful vistas: <br />only these feeble runes <br />scratched on a field of white. <br /> <br />Still, I wish that we could get away - <br />that is - <br />if you can spare the time. <br /> <br /><I>September, 2007</I><br /><br />Robert Charles Howard<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/landscapes-3/
