Departures

[k-j]

We watch the float-plane tug and churn,
auklike, across the inlet,
and then, airborne,
hear its low drone; we see it turn and chug
up into a wet bank of fog,
and vanish,
my daughter and I,
today like any February day,

grey wake fading on the face of the water.
I put my daughter down
and watch her run along the seawall,
flailing at gulls,
laughing,
the cries of the birds bearing her away
irrevocably into the world,
today like any other day.

[Robert E. Jordan]

K-j,

This is a charming scene. I don't see any problems in it.

Bobby

[David]

K-j, I like this a lot. The float-plane is a pleasantly unusual image - I've never actually seen one, and it seems to evoke where (I think) you live - and connects wonderfully well with your daughter's first steps towards independence. Of course she's just circling the airfield for now, as she will for years yet, albeit in increasingly wide and erratic circles (my daughter's 14), but the sadness, and the pride, and the pleasure, and the acceptance are all contained in your second verse.

Not just for fathers of daughters, of course, but particularly for them - this is great.

Cheers

David

[barrie]

Perfect connection here between the plane taking off and disappearing into the fog, and the finest lines of the poem in V2 -

'and watch her run along the seawall,
flailing at gulls,
laughing,
the cries of the birds bearing her away
irrevocably into the world'

They always seem to come back - one of my 'planes' is due to land this weekend.

If I read it right, then it's excellent - if I didn't, then it still is, because it won't change how I see it.

Good one

Barrie

[twoleftfeet]

David and Barrie have pretty much said it all.

This would definitely get my vote for a feature.

Geoff

[Wabznasm]

A light, calming read.

The voice lends to the image of a a foggy, calm, February day.

The connection between the two images is casual and easy.

That was like eating something healthy - thanks for the read.

[camus]

Indeed a little gem.

Skillful use of the linebreak, connecting yet separating the two scenes.

Would be a close call tween this and The Giant for new Feature.

[Minstrel]

Skillful use of line break and skillful use of punctuation.

You created a scene, a snapshot.

Evocative, grey and moody yet still vivid.

Delightful.

[k-j]

Thanks for all the responses.

David: yes, I've grown very attached to the little float-planes which come and go all day long from Burrard Inlet in Vancouver where I live and work. In fact I can hear the whine of one from my office as I write this. There's something carefree and comical about their labouring take-offs and pell-mell descents. I noticed the edit to your comment, so I'm unsure whether to wish you a happy birthday, or not. If you're keeping it a secret let me know and I'll edit this comment, too.

[David]

No worries old chap. I was suddenly overtaken by a fit of paranoia -"Never reveal your birthday on the internet!!!" - and that was my edit. Silly really.

If you don't mind me rambling on irrelevantly, I had a good day. Walked along the (disused) railway line to the pub for lunch with the family, part of which walk was whiled away discussing "carpe diem" poems with my daughter. Which is as close as we've ever come to the dreaded "facts of life". I had noticed that she had left her English book open at the computer, at "To his Coy Mistress" (one of my favourites), and I saw that, without having come across the phrase "seize the day" at all, she had summarised Marvell's message in her own words: "before we die let's do it". Which must be pretty much right.

I also pointed out (you will do the same yourself, one day) that all these poems urging the loved one to seize the day are written by men. She had spotted this. As a counterblast, I could only recommend the Shirelles, "Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow?" That's wisdom.

Cheers

David

[Lia]

It’s a wonderful poem. It seems to me that simplicity can only be captured with a skilled hand. I’m with the others in thinking this should be featured. Very good writing.

‘the cries of the birds bearing her away
irrevocably into the world,
today like any other day.’

Lia