if I push off
just right
from the tree’s sturdy trunk
if I look past
dangling apples
the Abandoned Bird nest among leafy clusters
I find myself
flying
working the wind like an extra muscle
totally oblivious
of the rope
connecting me to rooted things
only somewhat aware
of birds
winging their way across the heavens
but if I dangle
head and feet
from opposing sides
my donut swaying
me back
and forth through space
the wind
doing its best to spin
my flimsy craft
blurring
the world
and dizzying my senses
grass and sky
dissolve
and I become flight
Jewniquely Myself 
Beautiful — flying and becoming flight…..is it letting go that makes you the flight? i love the words and imagery….you surprise and delight me – every time. 🙂 Wish you a beautiful day. Shalom — i loved the feather-pillow story. 🙂
Yes, letting go…and I am still puzzling over the words myself. They came to me in two separate flashes, the image of the swing very insistent…you know how it is my sweet friend. Wishing you shalom, blessings and love.
Yes, i totally understand – sometimes i read “my” poems later and wonder who wrote this? They are secret messages from the universe for us…heaven touches us while we are rooted here on earth – through your swing. 🙂
Reblogged this on Campbells World.
Thank you, dear Patty!
This is so beautiful. I wish I could fly away!
Thank you, my sweet friend, I, too, wish for the freedom of flying. Blessings to you!
I am spell bound as I read through this place in time – your poem. I understand how it happens – the images just come in a flash and it is just right. I like the word, “Flight.” very much – and I feel it is so personal – so physical – and spiritual, this flight.
I’m sure it has happened to you , too, as you write, Linda…the poem takes over, and the poet stands as witness…love finding you here, dear friend!