Glide
We glide out on the highs,
Purple mountainside our guide
Over rivulets and patchworks of
Farmland sewn with wildflowers.
We soar as dragons once did
In fairytales and folklore,
Trusting our wings to immortality,
Steering a distance from the sun.
We float, soar, slide, riding the air
Without machine or feathers,
Let loose in the stratus wisps,
Rising and circling in a freefall.
We choose a life amongst eagles,
Surfing gusty squalls like waves.
Our boards are invisible lifelines
Carrying us like kites without strings.
Copyright Vickie Johnstone, May 24, 2020
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