Searching for Bliss

A few days ago I wrote the following. Originally it was going to be a "regular" chapter in my memoir but as I typed, the words felt more like a poem to me. It was one of those special moments when the words just flowed. (If this isn't poetry, please forgive me. It's my very first one.)

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I strolled along the pavement,
the sound of quiet surrounding me
like a quilt. The stillness was deafening
until I heard the engine of a prop plane
flying overhead. Stopping and shading my eyes,
I squint and watch it putter across
the powder blue sky.
Memories flooded my soul,
immediately tugging my mouth
into a wide grin.

The next day I walk the
same path. A distant cardinal chirps,
most likely believing it's already spring.
Why shouldn't he?
These past few days have been nothing
but glorious.
Only the calendar page declares
it's just early February.
I turn, looking for his brilliant crimson color
among the vast bare branches
but my eyes cannot find him.

I notice the sky is full of "airplane smoke,"
those cloud-like wispy lines also
carry memories for the child within me.
I close my eyes, and for a moment
I'm standing motionless in my front yard again.
I stare up, marveling at the sight above,
taking it all in and thinking as profoundly as
a five-year-old possibly can.

Blinking, I become aware of
my present surroundings and
begin my journey
back home.
Tomorrow. Maybe tomorrow
I'll think back and
reminisce once more.
Sentimental journeys.
Always bittersweet.

©2012 Becky Povich