On Nights

On nights like this when the stars bend down and kiss the trees,
When bumpy clouds race each other from east to west to north to south,
When the moon spreads out his cape, all jolly, and laughs at me through my window,
Even when I’m cuddled up under my starry quilt and my teddy bear is snoozing next to me,
I just can’t sleep.

On nights like this, things are too alive to miss out.
So I fly out of my window and explore.

You see, my bed has these ultra-silent jet engines underneath
That go from zero to three-thirty-five in only seven seconds.
I like things fast on occasion, but on nights like this I cruise.

I ease my bed up slowly, so as not to wake my parents,
(The window opens easy ‘cause it’s on remote control)
And inch by inch I slide on through the window and slip into the sky.

I think it bears repeating that I’m still tucked up in bed.
I haven’t disobeyed at all. I even left a note that says,
“Gone flying. Back soon. Michael”
I’m merely flying ‘round at night while everyone’s asleep.

Everything is quiet but the humming of the wind,
The crinkling of crickets, and the whoosh of faraway cars.
I trace them by their headlights through the dark.
I wonder who’s driving.

Purple, indigo, lavender – what color is it really?
The stars peek through the holes.
Dad says that stars are giant balls of fire so far away that they look tiny.
We probably look tiny to them too.

I skim the tops of trees, the breeze ruffling my hair fondly.
It’s just cold enough to make me slide further under the covers.
That’s the best part.
Everything is warm but my eyes.
I need those to see where I’m going.
I circle ‘round a lonely pine and scatter needles in showers.

I know where my house is because of the moon.
God must hold him there.
I read a book that said it was gravity, but who holds gravity up?

Inch by inch I slide from the sky and slip through the window.
Landing with a light thump.
Teddy mumbles and rustles in his sleeps.
Everything is warm.  My eyes, too.
On nights like this, that’s all it takes.

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