Yesterday, in the late afternoon, Jeff and I took our "baby" (the plane) out for a short flight. We're still breaking in the new engine, which gives us an excuse (not that we need one), to go flying. The heater in the plane is way better than the a/c. In the heat of the summer, it can get pretty warm inside, particularly during a long flight. But even getting a bit hot is a small price to pay for the immense pleasure we get while we bore holes in the sky! Now if we had a tit-for-tat kind of marriage, then based on the cost of the new engine - yours truly would literally be dripping in diamonds!
When you're flying, you can look down and see the cars on the freeway and if it's dark all the houses lit up and brilliant stars. We both like the sound of a small plane but from the ground, I can't decipher one little plane from another. What I do know is that someone up there is having one heck of a good time while pursuing their hobby or dream - or both.
While I was in the air last night, I jotted down the following on a piece of scrap paper. Mind you this is not even remotely in the same category as Keats, but for the spur of the moment, I thought it wasn't too bad:
When I fly high in the air
It gives me time to stop and stare
At all the houses in a row
And people going to and fro
Where do all the people go?
Only each of them know!
So when you're out in your yard and you hear a small plane flying overhead, look up and know that there is at least one person inside that plane that is having the time of their life.
P
I really like your poem.
ReplyDeleteThanks. Not too bad for a scrap of paper while flying waaaaaaaaaay up in the air!
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