Flaps respond to back nudge of stick,
Cushion pushes hard against my seat.
Feet adjust rests with measured kick,
While straps cradle elevated heartbeat.
Ground sweeps back, downward passes,
Three dimensions merge as two,
A torn mural of woodlots and grasses,
Hazy breath obscures details of view.
Great curving sweep shoots mountain pass,
Valleys spew crags that claw at my wings,
Loop on loop trades center of mass
Stomach trades equanimity feelings.
Oh -- to soar forever in vast gliding zest,
But lifting breezes will halt and fail,
Like whale in thrilling depth quest,
To surface I return, life to avail.
A flatness I seek, with wind at face
Flaps and direction in concert attending,
Earth gathers running feet with grace,
Gently to its bosom, without bending.
Gaze where we’ve been with stifled joy,
As I disassemble my winged steed.
Like some unsupervised teen boy
Pulling wings and tail--unscripted deed.
Trailer collects disarticulated friend
All fitted into a well- nestled home,
And off we go, other things to tend,
‘Til again--wide blue sky we roam.
© 2013 R. Leland Waldrip
There is also a video available for this experience.
http://player.vimeo.com/video/39325401
Your imagery is superb and most enjoyable reading
Peace be with you
William
Once, many years ago in West Virginia a colleague and faculty member in our department offered to take me up in his two-seater glider. For some reason the opportunity never came. Mark was a brilliant student and writer. Unfortunately, he thought he was better than the drugs he was taking. I worried a bit because West Virginia near Morgantown has very few fields to land in and a lot of rugged mountainsides and trees. I should've worried about his drug use. Flying with Mark would be a new kind of high. I believe he was forced to quit teaching and ended up being a househusband to his equally brilliant wife.
Ron
Regis