#151 Balloon Season by Lisa Hase-Jackson

I followed a stray balloon
instead of going to school
that morning,

wanted to see it land,
thought maybe the crew could use the help
of an eleven year-old kid.

And though I kept my eyes on its rainbow colors
obvious against the turquoise sky,
waved violent for the pilot’s attention,

and listened hard for the whisper
of the intermittent burner,
the murmur of the chaser crew,

I lost it when it lulled
beyond an adobe neighborhood
many blocks from school, disappearing

like a buffalo
sleeping amid tall grass
behind a swell of earth.


5 thoughts on “#151 Balloon Season by Lisa Hase-Jackson

  1. Thanks for this poem, Lisa. I have been longing for New Mexico, especially during this baloon fiesta, perhaps because my old neighborhood also does a massive yard sale and it is a lot of fun. Its all enough to make me want to wander out of this midwestern town back to the land of color (in more ways than one)

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