That is what i dream over and over when the night is deepest dark
and the sky can only be described as fathomless.
It begins with a flutter, a sprout of pin feather,
a twitch of pain upon bone and blade.
The stretching of skin preparing for
perfect aerodynamic flight signals me to keep my eyes closed,
fearless and determined.
I will myself to lift from toes heavenward,
the thrill of possibility scaling my body like fire.
Flight inhabits our lives. It inhabits my dreams. It is embedded in our linguistic map. Artists have whimsical flights of fancy. The insane are burdened with the incoherent flight of ideas. We take flight, make our getaway, a fly-by-night escape artist. When clueless we can fly by the seat of our pants. One can pass with flying colors. Countries fly their flag of victory whether honorable or not....
Ponder be-wingedment and tell us what you find....
This image, "Lost In The Storm" is for Jessica who is "in love with the billowy, [floating,] blankets of bokeh......"
These 2 images are for m.heart "At Rest; Preparing For Flight"
My dear friend Debi knows the secrets of blue and the mystery of owls in flight.
original photo courtesy of L*U*Z*A*, bird is me silly:)
Gravel Lines (live) - Amy Seeley