I wonder how it feels to fly.

I wonder if it feels like when
I leapt into the blue expanse
above the lake, and hung there for
an instant, in-between the rise
and fall.

The sky above was blue;
the water blue below; and far,
far off the mountains faded blue
in a distant haze.

Is that how it feels for a bird?

Is life for them a series
of moments in suspension— punctuated
by the occasional flap of a wing—
in which they glide through a hazy blue
world centered on their being?

That’s how I felt that day.

For a moment I hung inside
a bright blue marble, and the world
had wrapped it’s substance all around
my soul, and I and sky and wind
and lake and mountain one became.

But then the moment ended,
and I crashed into the water,
and it took my breath away.

I wonder how it feels to fly.

I wonder how it feels to leap
and never, never fall.