Here in the open cockpit
faceful of breeze
I sniff the winds of change.
Wooden wing struts and guy wires
lend a tentative support. You
look so brave out there, wind
whipped white frock and Florence
Below, the dizzy patchwork map. I
can still hear your courageous last words,
a soft mixture of lisp and postnasal drip
as you step into the nearest available space,
a cloudbank of high hopes
one hand clutching your little nursebag
and the other the ripcord.
~ David Barker
image: Brooke Shaden