I am flying over the Arctic Circle,
following the round edge of the earth,
mocha and blue,
as cloud shadows pass
The sun rests on the horizon's curve.
Following our path
just as it used to tailgate the car
on late drives home,
the moon waits at our shoulder.
While Aldrin and Armstrong walked on the moon
Collins orbited, alone on the farther side
sipping hot coffee, thinking of 3 billion
I’m thinking of coffee
at my mother's breakfast table
in brown Friendly Village mugs, the cream
in a tiny hotel-ware jug.
I am one of the bright lights
my sister and I watched from our sleeping bags
sheltered on one side by the house,
a cedar just behind us,
the night sky a treasure map,
wondering at those who travelled through it --
what did they know
that we didn't?
No matter how fast I go,
I will not catch
no matter how far,
I will not touch
Lynn Caldwell's work was commended in the inaugural Fingal Poetry Prize and has been published in Dedalus Press’s anthology WRITING HOME; Crosswinds Poetry Journal; for March 2019’s Hennessy New Irish Writing Award; and Aesthetica’s Creative Writing Anthology; and has featured on Irish radio’s Sunday Miscellany. Lynn is a Canadian calling Ireland her second home.