Flight

May 23, 1985

Aloft you buffet the wind, flying carefree on restless air broken only by your swift beckoning seizing very temporary space as you slice onward, upward. Back and forth to and fro, you pierce the air; floating on promises of engineering and nature. Sailing over green, brown, and black, silent departure graceful arrival. Your power has only the wish for your freedom, and exuberance over your airfoil adjustments. As you glide slowly downward, bodies fall toward you in sport, you land. Frisbee in the grass.