The Airplane Model
    Footnotes

    “The Airplane Model,” Ensign, Mar. 1977, 69

    The Airplane Model

    First Place All-Church Poetry Contest

    I remember

    My father built a model plane,

    One of those rubber-powered ones

    That grow out of a hundred bits

    Of balsa wood and paper held by glue,

    And it flew.

    I remember

    A card table in the front room

    And watching from my child-space

    While he cut and pinned and shaped

    A thousand fractured moments into place,

    And it flew.

    I remember

    The cool spring Saturday we went

    Outside, conspirators in flight,

    Propeller wound to nearly snap,

    Its wings held up to brush the morning air,

    And it flew.

    I remember

    The soaring arc that climbed past age

    Above the narrow city streets

    And rushed headlong into a wind

    That cut across an ever-widening sky,

    And it flew.

    I remember

    The ladder and broom that brushed it down

    From shingles where it crashed midway

    Along a path from man to boy.

    I watched tight-lipped, while shouting loud inside,

    It flew, oh Dad, it flew.

    Photography by Longin Lonczyna