flying

Poem 844 – Soon After Take Off

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The wings extend, reaching for the horizon.
There the gentle earth curves from our sight,
whilst up above the hazy blue invites us
like freshly laundered duvets. We dive in.

Below the fields stretch out, a honeycomb
of every green from darkened moss to sun,
detailed by hedgerow lattices and throbbing
tarmac veins. Soon distant trees compress.

Lazily we rise and patterns change
blurring in their complexity and scope.
Individual fields combine. Gradually
we dissipate and all is reconciled.

Flying to Turkey on an unexpectedly sunny morning.
(07.04.26)

© Ben Quant 2026

Poem 406 – Reaching for Heaven

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Picked out in Eden’s perfect white, you strain,
with necks outstretched, and reach for heaven’s doors.
Caught in between two worlds, your life is laboured
but here, serene in flight, as in the water;
gliding through the blue, God’s arrow shot,
an elegance outlined by morning’s sun.
Oh, that I could grasp a feather and fly
within this sky-born halo, but alas,
I fear my earth-bound fingers would find no purchase,
but slip right through to mourn what we have lost.

This morning a perfect V-formation of swans flew past our window, washed brilliant white by the sun. I pointed this out to my wife who said she knew what today’s poem would be about…
(25.01.25)

© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Mathijs de Koning on Unsplash

Poem 164 – Flights of Fantasy

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With flick of fanned out tail, the Kite flies deftly,
    With dancer’s grace, descends through applauding sky,
    Performs a pirouette, majestic dive,
Then swoops and thus commits audacious theft.
Through avian guile she artfully steals my breath
    And gripping firm, takes flight, and rises high.
    Leaving my standing ovation behind, she flies
Into the distance, fading. I’m bereft.
Sometimes I wish that I possessed her freedom.
    Perhaps I do! I have no wings but in
Their place imagination’s feathers thrust
    Me upwards seeking visions of what could be.
Their range is more than hers has ever been,
    Could dreaming meet this reaching wanderlust?

Red kites have recently established themselves in our neighbourhood. One regularly frequents the air above our garden. Watching it’s effortless flight inspired this sonnet, although it’s taken most of the week to knock it into some sort of shape.
(28.01.23)

© Ben Quant 2023
Image: Tim Felce (Airwolfhound), CC BY-SA 2.0, via Wikimedia Commons