Good Night

I could die happy. Smelly, but happy. It's a beautiful 62 degree night with winds up to 20 mph. On a previous post I listed a few of my favorite things, one of which is jumping on the trampoline when it's windy. Tonight I did.

The wind knows my skinny arms won't take me higher than my legs will thrust me but still it swirled and held me high as long as it could. A slide show of heights and far away places I've never been swept around me, postcards from the wind. Jumping makes me younger. The wind slips into my lungs meaning to continue on its way but it propels my chest to sail in its wake. It escapes a bit drained and rolls on its way. I'm gratefully invigorated and steal breath after breath of flight. I cannot inhale forever, I cannot fly. My legs tired and I sat. I do not remember the bouncing, only flying; short visits in the sky. Breezes erase the sky's memory and my strange visits were each welcomed new.

I don't wish to really fly. I can be as the strong pine: planted and combing the wandering air. Flying without leaving the ground.