For John Glenn

Ol' John returned,
Coasting down the air currents
In his new fangled space glider:

"But I thought he drops down
In a capsule with a parachute ..."
Mom said.

"No, no that was long ago ...
Its better now.

"Next time, you see 'em
Glide down -- all the way from Mars
With their red rocks and Martian biomes --

"Maybe it'll be our son ...
Maybe this Ol' John will go with him ..."
Dad said.

©1998, John A. Mills
Published in My First ...; Poetry Today; Suzy Walton, ed ©2001; p. 149.