There is a jet dragging a sun-dyed crimson tail across the sky. That gold fire is behind the mountains but the jet is up, up and the sun reaches up when it can’t reach across anymore, and I want to be doing that.
I want to be in there, that jet
but I also want to be here, on the ground
I am tired
I could be leaving bright banners between the horizons
and I still want to be here, resting.