Flight - Feb 12 2023

 

Flight

Feb 12 2023

High overhead

the big improbable birds

are circling lazily

on a rising thermal

of sun-warmed air.

Arms outstretched

it looks effortless;

like coasting

on the fixed wings

of a heavier-than-air machine.

Except for the small precise adjustments

we earthbound creatures

are too far down to see —

flight feathers trimmed,

a flick of the wrist,

a finely-tuned dip

of a wing's leading edge.

Is this freedom?

Free of gravity,

and the cost-free

power of sunlight?

Or is it hard work

that only looks easy?

The big breast muscles

holding its body aloft;

hungry lungs

gulping cold thin air;

the small heart quivering,

pumping

too quick to count.

Scavengers,

surveying the land

for the dying and the dead.

Competitors,

who will squabble and peck

over some decomposing prize.

But still, I wish I could fly.

At home in the sky.

Master of all I survey.

At play

in 3 magnificent dimensions.

An airborne life.

And if I had my way

never touching down.

I started out writing a philosophical poem about “freedom from” and “freedom to”. I was toying with an image of coasting birds — which wasn't working at all in that context — but struck me as a much more promising poem! So I went with that. Here's how it turned out.

Thinking back on this, I now realize it does speak to the original idea. Freedom from gravity. Freedom from the ground. Freedom from the fear of falling. As well as freedom to play, and the freedom to go anywhere in a straight unobstructed line.