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By Mary L. Collins

Inspiration Page

“In the late spring of 1927, something bright and alien flashed across the sky. A young Minnesotan who seemed to have nothing to do with his generation did a heroic thing, and for a moment people set down their glasses in country clubs and speakeasies and thought of their old best dreams.”

—F. Scott Fitzgerald on Charles Lindbergh’s Flight

Our Old Best Dreams

In this life
lie our old best dreams.

We have watched them rise up
like a bright summer sun, luminous and heavy,
the horizon on fire, overtaking everything.

They rise, these dreams,
to hang above us in our personal sky
warm on our faces, heat on our backs, as we bend to work --
each step, a promise kept,
each glance toward our vision, faith
that whatever it is we work toward will be realized.

Rain, sometimes comes, and if we recognize it as a blessing,
it will cool us.  And we will be thankful as it drenches
our gardens and crops, and swells our rivers and streams.

But if we see rain as ominous; fear distracts. 
We lose our way and curse the darkening sky.
The swelling creeks threaten, and we are afraid
of floods and catastrophe that never come.

We misplace our dreams.  They become sandbags
against waters that rage and boil, but more often than not,
break before flood stage.

-----------

When Lindbergh flew across the Atlantic, he flew alone --
The lightest possible load his companions;
five sandwiches, no parachute, a Saint Christopher’s medal for luck; 
hallucinating from lack of sleep,  fighting delirium,
his determination, blind faith, and a workhorse of a plane,
the only thing between himself and sure death. 

------------

Today, I set my glass down and think of my old best dreams -
I offer up a prayer and gratitude to Lindbergh for reminding us,
our dreams are what give hope to life and purpose to choice.

Whatever we dream, it can be done –

Farm boys can fly across oceans,
five sandwiches for sustenance,
ocean spray for consciousness,

angels at each wing.

 . . . . .

Mary L. Collins is a writer, producer, voiceover artist and mother.  She lives and works in Northern New England and can be reached at www.marylcollins.com

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