Ronald Moran, Flying Over the Catskills

Ronald Moran

Nearly 50 years ago I was flying southeast
out of Buffalo, on a French jet whose name
I cannot remember, where I sat up front
on a flight so smooth and quiet I felt
I entered a dreamscape, looking out
over the Catskills in January, white
as rapture, trees like fingers beckoning.

So taken was I with this enticement
from a world that was discovering me,
I thought, Should I answer it now
or cling forever to this calling out to me?
But I failed to act, holding within myself,
too distant and deep, what held me then.


One thought on “Ronald Moran, Flying Over the Catskills

  1. Ron, you tackle one of my favorite subjects – the perrenial holding of time, of event – and you tackle it with precise grace. Thanks.

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