Into The Arc Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Looking up into the arc, it is time to celebrate:
See there, there are balloons,
Being blown by the zephyrs into the lips of
Vagabonds—and in the living room there
Is enough space to count out the terrapin—
Until another bedroom is divided—
Your mother and father are still alive—
But the katydids like themselves inside the cataracts of
Cypress,
As the airplanes fly across overhead,
Spilling their silver ribbons over another theatre
That is too afraid to disappear.