Flight Lesson – 9

Grass is a gift.  A compliment most unexpected and undeserved. When it is given to you, you glow; making your skin flush and your face blush. Praise so gentle and kind, offered with such grace, you glide into being what you always wanted to become when you glide across grass.  A pilot’s imperfections softened, absorbed by a thick featherbed of sweet grass wrapping around your wheels. Looking folded and foreign from the air, on final an emerald runway unfolds before you – wide and flat. Dotted with dandelions and clover, laid down like down. An enchanted bed where all your fears are softly erased in a grass strips tender embrace. Open arms waiting to catch you as you fall, when the power’s pulled back, and you’re holding your breathe.  Wondering, wanting to be sure.  Grass hears all your doubts, understands that uncertainty is the only certainty a pilot knows.  The cloud of unknowing clouds your mind.  Am I ever good enough?  Am I too high, am I too fast?  Do I do everything wrong, and where are the signs that help me know when I did something right? Just then the smell of melting sugar and exhaust meet in the air, floating up into you, as you float down.  Laying you gently on the ground, a safe haven, forgiveness found.

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