The Earthsick Astronaut
He is yearning for his earth senses.
He wants the smell of burning wood to swirl up
And tickle his nose
Like a coarse, rough feather from a bird on the earth;
He wants the sight of a fire,
The flickering fish tails
That make his eyes see nothing else;
He wants to taste bacon, the real bacon,
Tingling on his tongue to evoke
The smell, the sound, the flavour ...
He wants the touch of cold air on his skin;
Air, a free spirit, teasing, running;
A brush-past kiss on a warm cheek is
And then ... the sad things;
Gravestones like babies' teeth, yet
Decayed with lichen and moss.
But still he is yearning,
Yearning for air, for fire,