Forty-one years ago, I wrote the following poem while ruminating about life in Chicago’s S. 57th Street Park overlooking Lake Michigan and Downtown Skyline. Now, in my 78th year, I still stand by every word of it.
Like Any Boy
Above me seagulls show the whites of wings
while gliding in the upward draught.
Then, their stiff wings move
circles in the air reaching
like the butterfly stroke of swimmer.
Their patches of gray match
the color of the cloudy sky's broader wings.
Their lofty views shrinks me back
to the properly human and child-like.
Watching seagulls smile that silly
smile of theirs, I think
If I watch closely,
if I practice in starched shirts
moving my arms like wings...
their lofty view is possible.
One seagull high overhead
circles the shore.
He tilts upright
a kite rising in the gray
expanded air.
While here below
on the Chicago lakefront,
I stand half way up
huge concrete blocks
chest out and arms
spread into the wind,
like any boy
practicing to fly.
Steve Heins, 1978 in Chicago