burst before and behind us.
Pajama kids cluster guardrails, oooooh,
while parents blanket shoulders,
and point to sparking dandelion seed heads.
Blue islands silhouetted around the bay
flash yellow. Little hot air balloons, globos,
lift, flicker in darkness, pulse like small red hearts.
Children watch them drift, and we watch
their watching. Let them glow. May they cause no
wildfires wherever they, at last, light.
Better, let them sail up through strata, float
farther than our failures, our pencil aspirations,
further than the narrow rooms of this poem’s
stanzas, till they taste space.