Lucerne. 1982.
Walking alone because of some spat or another,
with brother, with mom —
who remembers now?
What I do remember is the crowd at the edge of the partk,
faces skyward,
the tilt of my own neck,
the way I caught my breath at the sight of the hangglider,
drifting in lazy circles like a great raptor,
back and forth,
back and forth.
I watched, mouth agape,
all arguments forgotten,
as over the course of 3o minutes,
the glider swooped & soared,
inching ever lower,
until finally,
gently,
touching down
on
the
lawn.
[scs_alt]
PS — Pssst! Know someone who might benefit from seeing this today? Pass it on!
