from a backward fall,
I rise upright,
and fly without a broom,
I see my enemies down below,
in the countryside,
as I fly across the moon...
fling sticks and stones
to bring me down...
people I've known,
since the early days at school...
I don't know why
this thing was given to me,
but it's true.
Only the first few flights,
ungainly...balanced wrong,
like riding a bike,
I get the right of the thing,
as I walk in the sky.
A gentleman asked,
"how fast do you fly?"
Well, I wasn't that surprised,
he knew..."Quite fast."
I confessed, at last,
"a bit over three hundred miles an hour...
I guess",
as we chatted there
at a Big Sur breakfast bar.
So, I'm telling you,
cause I don't give a shit
if you know.
Get it off my chest.
Stay off my ass.
We are no surprise,
to the wisher's and wise...
to the real healers in our world,
who watch us walk
and wish us luck.
On a morning not so long ago,
a man was seen racing,
down icy road,
of early morning light,
six inches above the snow...
bolt upright,
to stares of two
who were there
and watched him go.
I am ready, you know...
to go,
but only heaven knows
when... 'll be done here.
Written By Bruce James Clyde 2016, Deming, New Mexico
Photo Credit: pinterest.com, cloud diving
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