Open skies beckon in something broader.

From the flat hills I stood on as a child

Bringing in wood for the winter,

There was a longing for the skies.

As avid as my aversion for chopping wood.

On a trip to town armed with enough coin,

Enough for milk from the farmer and stale bread.

On my trip home a machine caught my eye,

It had wings bird-like and glided through idle wind,

My heart jumped as did the machine.

The man called it an ‘updraft’ that kept birds up.

Running my way home I set the items on the table,

Taking fathers axe I ran, excited to chop wood for once.

Once down I cut off the branches and carved them,

Turning them to what I could remember the machine being.

It took a long time to see the fruits of my labour.

And letting it fly as the man’s machine did let my heart sink back to place.

Did I mishear or not see what gave it magical flight?

Did I- huff, well I’ll just have to try again.

And try I did, again and again and again and again.

Until the sun set below the frozen mountain tops

And the dark woods encompassing me gre darker.

“Boy, get inside before frostbite gets the best of you”.

Leaving my wooden upsets, I came inside.

Shivering and sullen faced my father,

Exclaiming with the little smile I could.

“Father, I want to fly!”

He gave me a look, seeming to eye me up and down.

He probably thought I was crazy,

“Boy, if the frost got to your calluses, you’d barely be able to eat dinner”.

Calluses? Oh the bubbles on my hands?

“Boy, leave flying for tomorrow. Even a sparrow needs to feed”

He didn’t really say much about my goal,

But his smile and pat on the shoulder gave rise.

It let my heart fly tonight so it could soar tomorrow.

On the morrow I left bed and hit the trees once more.

Felling them for more of my failed projects,

Father seemed fine with my project.

As long as he got his wood for the fire.

Time after time.

Day by day.

Cold evening after cold evening.

And then, at once, I saw it glide a bit.

Only for a moment, but a moment was all I needed.

What did it?

Through the time I spent, I met with the man,

The man at town square who I had seen initially.

Pushed myself through the crowd and watched in wonder,

I showed him my version and he ruffled my hair.

Pulled me in close and let me feel and see the machine.

It was less of a machine, and more like a bird.

At home the forest behind our house,

had grown a pile of my flaws by the door.

But with the man’s new insights,

I felt I could fly. And making it so I could.

Pulling my projects through my schooling,

Taking them to my jobs at adulthood,

I made it, it took engineering, an understanding of physics.

But the dream, my dream had come alive.

Peddling with my feed and rolling forward I could feel it,

Trying to lift itself up, rocking back and fourth

In an attempt to escape the ground.

The rumbling stopped,

Sounds of metal rolling and fabric bellowing

My eyes nearly came out of my sockets.

I looked down in disbelief, but I was beyond it.

Beyond the earth,

Beyond the trees and paths.

I was in the sky,

It felt so broad as if it had no end.

My first flight lasted a total of 15 minutes and 11 seconds.

And in those 15 minutes I could’ve died happy.

But after landing I took it to comrades for adoption among them.

To take my dream and share it with them.

It was slow, and safety made it harder for it to take off,

Physically and socially.

It took till my twilight years.

Children and grandchildren took arms.

In the first commercial flight,

I sat in my seat,

Looking out my window as if enchanted.

The world seemed to bend around the breadth of the skies above.