Born To Fly Or Surfing Leaf
Shoulders hunched skittering tiptoe on ice polished tarmac.
Racing down wind in tumble roll effort to rise.
Then rising in stem keeled soar of caught breeze
To sail in free wheeling swirl
Hanging ten on invisible wavering air currents
Laughing at still tied comrades all in fluttering applause
While below a hundred others huddle
Waiting for a big one in cold November sun
A few scuttle away to hide in comforting bushes
Reliving memories of safer family ties
Copyright © Donald Meikle | Year Posted 2008
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