Dropping in

 

 

dropping.

 

I know i usually don’t put my poetry on here – considering this is about riding. But, when i have a poem that is directly about just that… i figure it’s appropriate. And i bet you didn’t think there was any deeper meaning in hucking yourself off of a 30 foot cornice….

 

The edge of the cornice closer now,

Senses keened, eyes wide,

Unaware of anything but motion,

Focused upon the task at hand.

 

These seconds I crave -

Tension, rush, and relief,

From the edge to the landing,

These are my wings.

 

This is the form taken,

The release for me,

When thought is provoked,

Cherished is the quiet absence of.

 

Perhaps it is only

When we think the least

That our minds are the clearest,

And that we are the most attentive.