Flying Baby
A poem.
February 25, 2010
Flying Baby A baby sits quietly
on his mother's lap,
frightened and calm,
weary and curious,
beloved – and so – loving.
Old ladies struggling
with irregular carry-ons spot him
like a star on the horizon.
Passing by, each one
touches the baby's head
with detached and utter
affection, sparks of God.
– C. Malcolm Ellsworth