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Pilot Paradise

Sacred Memories

By Michael LuningPublished 2 months ago Updated 2 months ago 1 min read

Time stood still between the ticks of the clock on the wall above my physics instructor’s head,

Monotonous monotone mumblings droned on pelting my ears and mind now looking for succor,

Late Spring wind gently blowing the flowered drapes through the open window captured my spirit,

A distant roar of engine released my discomfort,

This was not the sound of a land locked vehicle,

This was the sound of freedom dancing in the skies,

An air-born brother living and sucking the juice of life moment by moment,

The wind called gently reminding me of an open cockpit, leather, and the dance I love,

Combined, wind, lift, and thrust are the essence of life.


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