Flight

There’s a guy who flies model planes
over the green expanse of park
on mornings when the weather’s fine.
Today, his Cessna 195 soars and dives
with uninhibited grace, a movement
so perfect and unexpected it draws
the eye. People out for some air
or walking their dogs crane their necks,
mesmerized, following each dip and turn,
each joyful loop-de-loop. The feelings
of the flyer perfectly expressed
in the free-flowing glide,
spontaneous yet controlled,
an intuitive dance through deep blue sky.

And I think he must be a happy soul,
out of sight at the far end of the park,
handling the controls with an easy grin.
An invisible yet passionate pro.
A retired pilot, perhaps, or engineer,
tweaking each model with his own designs,
cutting fearless and beautiful
across autumn sky, in the suburbs
between tribal land and urban sprawl.
This little piece of paradise.
Freedom in the form of flight.