Manifestation

Manifestation Memoire

The swoop of the Purple Martin on its approach slope to its nest; the swoosh of air ruffles his plume. 

Soaring, a familiar sensation.

I have seen the skies up close; flown high as the clouds; felt the charge, riveting. 

My wings, I tip playfully, pretending not to notice the female pilot flying starboard.

Another day, another flight.

Still, I sense a need to touch my wheels to the pave. 

Cut through the breeze like a plane, but hugging the road.

Similar, yet juxtaposed, soaring midair or bike gripping the dirt path.

Hunger runs my veins as I anticipate another ride.

Couldn’t ask for better weather; sun and cloud, a perfect mix.

Dad mounts his Harley. I roll down the driveway hill on mine.

He looks happy in my company. 

I catch a glimpse in a wide store window. Good looking bike, if I may think so myself. My red ‘Street Glide’… sweet.

Tomorrow back to flying my ‘Alpha Trainer’ for hire.

For today though, it’s the joyride that conquers, sharing this with my dad. Something he, too, shared with his father.