Applejack

I felt a lift, a thermal high and out the corner of my eye saw angel wings recalling angels fly -- thinking myself to give it a try; no halo, of course, just arms and hands nor feathers for glide, yet sensed a certified flying-couch on each side offering me a heavenly ride~ higher and higher, into ever dearer light – beyond our sun we flew out of sight zooming passed stars, red, blue and white... planets and moons far smaller yet bright, each one, its own guardian of great mystic, celestial might -- (seeming less to matter which wrong or more right) -- back home, in my easy porch-chair, the morning dawn bringing our usual breath of clearer fresh air – feathers fading from my sleepy morning inner sight an old man, blind, rocker-bound, out for a night --