Hanging in Blue

by Drake McDonald
Hanging in blue drake mcdonald poem

I wonder how it feels to fly.

I wonder if it feels like when
I leapt into the blue expanse
above the lake, and hung there for
an instant, in-between the rise
and fall.

The sky above was blue;
the water blue below; and far,
far off the mountains faded blue
in a distant haze.

Is that how it feels for a bird?

Is life for them a series
of moments in suspension— punctuated
by the occasional flap of a wing—
in which they glide through a hazy blue
world centered on their being?

That’s how I felt that day.

For a moment I hung inside
a bright blue marble, and the world
had wrapped it’s substance all around
my soul, and I and sky and wind
and lake and mountain one became.

But then the moment ended,
and I crashed into the water,
and it took my breath away.

I wonder how it feels to fly.

I wonder how it feels to leap
and never, never fall.

Drake McDonald

Drake McDonald is a storyteller. He makes videos, designs art installations, and sometimes he even writes short fiction and poetry. He is interested in the stories that connect us all.


  1. Abby Bales

    Oh wow – I loved this so much! I really felt this. Well done!

  2. penn hayden

    Excellent. It flowed like a wind was carrying your words effortlessly. Loved the imagery.

Done already? Looking for something a little longer?

The Librarian’s Ruse by Thirzah is now available! This YA fantasy adventure novella will leave you holding your breath for more.

Buy now on Amazon, or ask for it from your local bookshop.

The Librarian's Ruse by Thirzah

Don’t go. You’ll also like:



Fragile Lurking in the mind’s shadows Dormant seeds awaiting spring Fraying, dimming at the edges Like  A mouse fleeing a hawk  A decaying flower  A dream unraveling Like  Wind whipping where it will  Wandering willfully  Without asking...

The Last Lay of Witch-King Dwyr

The Last Lay of Witch-King Dwyr

Witch-King Dwyr turned his face to the sky. Witch-King Dwyr was waiting to die. Flurries of powder blew past his crowned head: The dust of the land and the bones of the dead. From his hill to the shores all the earth lay decayed, The ripple of ruin from a last debt...

Beneath the Blue

Beneath the Blue

Beneath the unbroken blue A crystal clear mirror Reflecting and refracting the glaring sunlight Rays of sun strike the sapphire surface Pushing, breaking through Warmth blends with the cold current Like an artist creating colors Now a breeze blows over the water The...

Never miss another story!

Join our free mailing list and we'll let you know when we publish new stories, essays, and poetry.

You have Successfully Subscribed!

Pin It on Pinterest

Share This