contrails (Photo credit: Hope For Gorilla)
Their airborne travels are marked
by the cloudy tracks they leave.
Though birds travel the same roads,
they leave barely an echo behind
for us to ponder their paths.
Yet we remember those songs
like scars upon our skin.
And ponder I do, these cool mornings,
when the sky travelers’ prints course
across that field of blue.
I see the east, west, or southerly routes
they took before the sun finished
its own hidden path to morning,
when we can see all. For now.
But the winds aloft and day’s progress
disperse the records of their passing,
just as this old man’s memory
will lose these tracks I here leave,
ethereal poems of here to there.
Please keep them safe for me.
A Thing for Words 
Beautiful and poignant, Joe…lovely writing 🙂 xox
keep tracks safe ? those they never recorded
yet became part of a memory
LOVE this Joe! Really well done. Will keep those poetic tracks safe.
cento anni…
oh Joe, so beautiful, so beautiful.
Joe, a beautiful poem!
This piece has such gentle sadness, yet seems hopeful, for we poets do leave tracks in the hearts, minds, spirits of our readers; a phrase, an image, a new word or several. I tell you the Hesch path within me is rife with pioneer & romantic & dramatic tracks; thanks.
bird song as scars upon the skin. wow.
Indeed the birdsongs and poems should be remembers as the contrails disperse… wonderful
emotional write… another great thing about possessing artistic talents: when we pass, our writing remains… our feelings then become the only tangible form of us in a way… books, paintings, CDs etc… and hopefully someone who adorned us enough to keep them safe.
Yet we remember those songs
like scars upon our skin.
What a gem for a couplet that is Joe. Beautiful man.
Emotionally beautiful.
Beautiful writing my friend…:)
Wonderful poem. Really, only our readers can keep our poems, our words, our memories safe for us. “its own hidden path to morning,” is just such a beautiful line. 🙂
Joe, at first this seems “up in the air” only, but then you add your tracks, all to be brushed away, and with it, your earthly self. This becomes a sort of parable, you know? The beauty of this work we do is that there is a record of who we were and how we felt; our passions, our pleasures.
One thing I must mention, too… I remember sonic booms when I was a kid. That was a bit scary but thrilling to us.
Beautifully written, heartfelt. BRILL. Amy
The idea of memories leaving their traces on our bodies is very moving to me.
thankful to have your tracks in writing, Joe … the ending is just beautiful.
Beautiful the comparison of our poetic tracks likened to the tracks left by birdsong..for we do travel east & west, north & south in our pondering and expressions..lovely poem Joe
The loveliest of tracks, Joe. Like a cool breeze.
Interesting as modern technology allows the poorest of poets to leave behind a nautilus shell of vessels of meaning in words…