Skydiver

First step

and he swallows

the dry, delicious fear

of walking on air.

Body bent back

into a bow,

he falls into the arms 

of the screaming wind,

his heart beating

taps in his ears.

Pop, 

and an angel wing

pulls him from the thunder

of a hundred-

mile-an-hour dream.

He sits perched,

a runaway cloud

of contentment,

a fearless eagle feather

lost in the drift

of an early afternoon.

Knees bent, he pulls 

the taut reins of reality,  

ready-sets himself

for one final, little lift,

one last tiptoe of air 

before his flying feet

must run their 

earthbound way

back home.

from A FURY OF MOTION: Poems for Boys, Boyds Mills Press ©Charles Ghigna