There are those who are focused on summits of things
The very highest points they can find.
They must somehow get to the top
No matter how hard the grind.
But in my mind (and my heart)
There is only the urge
To glide without weight to the start
Of that place where the surge
Of the light
Fills every last cell
With delight
And joy is as open as the vast June sky
Where, weightless,
The body takes flight.
