This is a stairway in an old homestead like some others I’ve seen in very old houses: very steep, leading to two rooms on either side of the stairs. You can see the turning that leads to the main upstairs room (to the left, out of sight, and the door to the smaller room on the right with one enormous step. There is a way to negotiate it, but it’s a challenging entrance and exit, and I began to imagine what I might have thought if, as a small boy, I had been assigned to that room…
At eight years old I rose from bed,
ready for the morning.
I found my clothing on the floor,
and while the sun was dawning,
I dressed myself, and ready to start,
reached out to pull the door,
swung it in and stepped ahead,
and teetered on the edge,
the doorway ledge,
and I looked down,
and with a frown,
and a flutter of my heart,
and something caused
imagination to break out,
and I could barely hold the shout
of glee rising in me.
It was not stairs that filled my sight,
but images of eagles’ flight,
and standing at my bedroom door,
I really thought that I could soar
high above the world below, and so…
I did, I leapt out from that sill,
not expecting any ill,
and, yes, I willed myself to fly,
but really there’s no reason why
I should have done what I did,
and they all thought I’d flipped my lid,
as down those steps I roughly fell,
and scared them in bloodcurdling yell.
Oh yes, I thought I would be cruising.
Instead my body sure was bruising.
They picked me up and soothed me, then
told me never do that again.
I knew that surely I never should,
but somehow I knew I surely would,Oh, yes, I surely would.