The Teacher

How can I fly without wings?
Ah, but you have them.
And feathers?
Yes, those too, you have them.
But where are they? I see nothing.
They are there, dear child.
But I am afraid of falling.
You must persist or you will never fly.
 
And turning aside, the teacher gives a sigh,
for she, too, is afraid of falling.
 
The child leaps into the air,
a loop or two,
and lands at the teacher's feet
smiling away and away,
 
imagining soft rain
as the face of the sky,
and the wildflowers
nodding and laughing.