Landing

Landing

An action so full of place
that we named it after where we arrive:
landing. We meet the ground
again, re-remember the rules of the land.
Our perspective will always
be bottom-heavy. All the negative space
belongs to the sky, and it
seeps out from between tall buildings
like the grout around tiles.
We dwell in small, capped-up structures
and cut windows into them,
hang mirrors strategically to make rooms
appear more spacious, brighter.
We place a small rug near the front door
and write Welcome across it.
Then we scrape our shoes on its surface,
lest we bring in snow, dust,
mud or any other material that lands on
Earth, clinging to our steps.