'The View from up here' by Beverley Fry

Ahead, and scattered far and wide
discarded feathers, preened out,
strew the waterside.

My child selects those that are slender, thin,
the plumes, they tickle him beneath his chin
and laughing he finds more,
from wings the shafts are firm, straight quills.
In ripples of air he feels their lift,
and thrills, he knows for sure they’ll drift.

Along the lake edge yellow iris bloom,
golden lily, fleur de lys,
they rise above leafy spears that merge
thick among the seeding bulrush stick.
Coots, skim like stones, their sharp calls
plunge arrow-heads of alarm, say hide,
to their fluff-black, red-topped young,
who bob up, tweeting at their side.

And on the bank, our boy, a spike of feathers
bunched in either hand, arms pumping hard
he leaves the land. Says, look, see I can fly,
I can fly.
This becomes the child’s constant cry.

Wind-waves dismiss a mirror image of the house
but fathom-folds of green support a prettier show;
water lilies float white saucers of light
that shelter trout, eels, clams with pearls below.


Hello, hello, his airborne song to a surprised grebe,
it dives, distracts him he just skims the boat house.
First flights are tricky, and shouts back good bye,
then says, come with me we’ll fly and fly and fly.


Ascending the gardens grassy slope,
he spots stone steps, his sharp eyes see
small daisies, and asks,
are you looking up at clever me?

He turns and with alarming aerobatic grace
approaches the Halls formidable south face,
and in the leaded window glass catches
a quick image of his body flying past.

Below, the apron lawn is spread
with flowers from their flowery bed
and trees, in blossom dripping pinks and red
and groups of tiny people who snake a tail,
along the wooded lakes fine muddy trail.

On a chimney pot I see my child,
and wave, wonder can he see me?
Breathless he looks down, he pants,
I see you, but you’re small as ants,
and I am huge, he says, as big, as big as you.

Then with a hooting yell he opens up his palms
his feathers fall he leaps,
and luckily for him,
I open up my arms.