There is a lightness within the basket
lifted into the air, to travel some distance,
but not so far.
A whoosh, more lift, raising on wind,
traversing like an escalator.
Up, up, away, we sway.
A massive balloon, adorned in a kaleidoscope
of colors, that radiate off a cloudy, sunset sky,
The air is so cool, as wind whips my hair.
All the while, I see mile upon mile
the collision of autumnal colors,
fading away from the clutch of summer.
Hush, I can hear the venting of air,
as we begin descending, at such a pace
I think my knees wobble beneath me.
The balloonist indicates a target to reach,
the terra firma, where to plant my feet,
if hitting the landing spot is really sought.
The grassy flat meadow below,
the basket, balloon and passengers
together to land gently, unharmed.
Success is celebrated on our maiden
voyage as captain pops the cork.
It's champagne, we toast and drink.