by Dylan Dodd
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During the spiral climb
A small town begins to shrink.
The summit makes it a model
Crafted well, with near perfect design.
Sounds from below become faint,
Gone when you feel the pressure change.
The air is different up there;
Breathing in won’t make you choke.
Not a trace of pungent perfume,
No flattened skunk on a highway,
No need to worry about
The rancid fog of tractor-trailer tailpipes.
Only newborn air, untouched
By a rushing world below,
Blowing through frosted patches
Of grass and earth. Breathe it in—
Introduce your lungs to a delicacy.
Extend your arm to catch the clouds
That forever ride the wind.
Dylan Dodd studies English at Worcester State University. He loves nature, the arts, and the way life works. See more of his work here.