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Hang Gliding
A day at the cliffs, dancing with wind shifts.
There’s nothing like this, a day of pure bliss.
Safety must come first, to avoid the hearse.
Helmet for your head, harness or you’re dead
With glider in hand, it’s time to leave land.
You need to run swift, to catch the wind’s lift.
You’ll fly like a bird; few sounds will be heard.
Thermals are flowing, sunshine is glowing.
As turns you’re making, sights are breathtaking.
After an hour, look for the tower.
Flight demanding, it’s time for landing.
Bank into the wind and let your flight end.
Copyright ©
Bill Baker
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