Flight of the Spirit

I hover high above the ground, gently land ing the tree's. The branches easily sway, moving with the breeze. I sit there, just watching all the movement in the street below. The sun bathes me, heating my body, from the rays soft, warm glow. I leave my perch, zoom toward the people, and then...and then, up again I fly, just missing, a tall, dark steeple. In and out of the clouds, I nautically drift. A bird screeches and whooshes by. I grab onto his tail, as he pulls me toward the sky. We fly together for a while, riding high, on a pocket of air. Just me and the bird, alone, soaring free with not a care. Now I let go, off I fly, into the mist of the day. Such a feeling, higher, higher, much higher I say. The ecstasy of being so free, swells up deep inside of me. All of a sudden I feel a pull, falling, falling deep. And then it is over, I awake to reality, from a happy peaceful sleep.