(Poem 234 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

Nearing dusk in the
falling in love time
of year when we said
our goodbyes longer
than was necessary,
a UFO floated above,
slowly, gracefully, for
a machine so large,
its triangular shape
at once distinct and
completely unclear.

The size of a city block,
it made no sound,
shone no lights, nor
revealed exhaust,
but simply hovered
like a kite out for a
leisurely jaunt taking
a moment to survey
the neighborhood
from the best vantage
point in the clear sky.

My lover and I pointed
heavenward in awe and
disbelief, unsure of the
images our eyes relayed
to our brains, unable to
fully process a craft of
solid black smoothness
suspended in disbelief
as gently as a cloud,
then race north and out
of sight like a memory.

@Home Studio – 234^th poem of the year (David and I saw a UFO one evening in 2013 or 2014, when we were still dating.)