National Poetry Day

Impressions of a Pilot  Flight is freedom in its purest form, To dance with the clouds which follow a storm;  To roll and glide, to wheel and spin, To feel the joy that swells within;  To leave the earth with its troubles and fly, And know the warmth of a clear spring sky;  Then back to earth at the end of a day, Released from the tensions which melted away.  Should my end come while I am in flight, Whether brightest day or darkest night;  Spare me your pity and shrug off the pain, Secure in the knowledge that I'd do it again;  For each of us is created to die, And within me I know, I was born to fly.  — Gary Claud Stokor