A bird of prey hangs in a flawless blue sky
Wings motionless riding thermals
Tipping slightly to the left and then the right and then the left again
It all appears effortless, as though gravity is merely a suggestion
And this bird is not suggestible
“Why do they do that?” she asks
I try to imagine the boundless freedom of weightlessness
Tensing muscles in an intricate pattern of calculated ease
In order to catch the currents just right
So that I might be suspended in endless blue
Surveying all I see from the heights to which my wings have taken me
Reveling in the peace my efforts have wrought
High above it all
With the wind in my face and the sun on my back
I imagine all this and I answer “If you could, why wouldn’t you?”