Soarin'

One of the most satisfying perks of parenting is being able to share the unforgettable images you first experienced as a child with your own brood. Sometimes, if you're really fortunate, you can even feel the full force of that imagery for the first time, as I did a few days ago reading Eric Carle's Dragons, Dragons to Christopher. I had never heard of some of these creatures: rocs that feed on elephants (and will surely turn up at my next Scrabble match), kappas that steal bellybuttons while you're sleeping, or the manticore "dragon behind and man before." The one that caught my imagination most vividly, however, was one with which I was at least distantly acquainted: the Pegasus. There walk among us right now those with heavy hearts; I found out my mother-in-law just lost her last living sibling yesterday. This poem makes me think of her.

He could not be captured,
He could not be bought,
His running was rhythm,
His standing was thought;
With one eye on sorrow
And one eye on mirth,
He galloped in heaven
And gambolled on earth

And only the poet
With wings to his brain
Can mount him and ride him
Without any rein,
The stallion of heaven,
The steed of the skies,
The horse of the singer
Who sings as he flies.

Eleanor Farjeon