FRONT FLIP HALF TWIST

1 2 Y F R O N T F L I P H A L F T W I S T C L I V E J A M E S In the video from Wales, my granddaughter Steps to the wall’s edge. Just a yard below The beach begins, a long way from the water. A pause for thought. She then proceeds to throw A cartwheel through the air, and, when she lands, Stand upright on the sand, all done no hands. She came to her miraculous mastery Of this maneuver by a strict process – She still insists it was no mystery – Of more and more to reach down less and less Until, one day, the finished thing was there, Made manifest entirely in mid-air. I, who no longer fly, feel I am flying When I watch her describe that graceful arc, So perfectly alive. I can’t be dying If I see this. The sky will not grow dark While she spins through it, setting it alight, Making my day by staving o√ the night. Play it again. A poem that has taken Its final form is radiant like this. Beginnings left behind, but not forsaken, Its history beyond analysis, What starts by growing slowly, like a pearl, Takes o√ and turns into a whirling girl. ...