flightYour flight is not the flight of birds of prey,
for no mere profit is made, no gain found.
Yours is not eh flight of birds in seasons’ way;
you’re free from aim and hour above the ground.
The wind flows over your metallic wings
and onward you are driven, ever sure,
but it’s the lifting underflow that sings–
a soaring, sweetly soaring voyager.
Your flight is that of singing birds: a flight
of joy, of love, of conquest over fear.
Unfettered mind, robust heart, boundless sight–
the gifts of flight are gifts that make life dear.
So ride the currents, climb, embrace the sky.
Remind us all that we are born to fly.