From Space

You are smaller than I remember And so is the house, set downhill Afloat in a sea of scrub oak. From up here It’s an ordinary box with gravel Spread over its lid, weighting it, but Inside it’s full of shadows and sky. Clouds pull themselves over dry Grass, which, if  I’m not mistaken, will erupt Any minute in flame. Only A spark, a sunbeam focused. From up Here, enjoying the view, I can finally Take you in. Will you wave back? I keep Slingshotting around. There’s gravity For you, but all I ever wanted was to fly.