Carnival lights sparkle in a confetti
of reds and greens and yellows,
shooting stars about to lift and burst
held in a magic stasis by the warm airs
of a summer evening. We feel an undercurrent
of excitement, a flutter that tickles the senses
like the awful joy of love, our eyes on that
high wide wheel that churns to heaven.
Up to the top of the world we climb, step by
airy step, tethered lightly to earth, too happy
to return with shameful relief to it.