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I want my spirit to soar,
Yet I can’t find the words;
Instead of finding lift in my thoughts,
There’s sink and flightless birds.

I’d like to fly along cloud streets
With my vario pegged up high;
Not flat tyres or tubing breaks
Or batteries that die.

I’d take a launch in a buoyant sky
If it weren’t for the hangar rash;
Another ground job while others fly,
More expensive drains on cash.

Then wind picks up with flooding rains
Four no fly days in a row;
Chasing software bugs with upgrade pains
And varios that don’t want to go.

At last, it’s done and forms are signed,
Towed to the runway edge;
High launch ok then altitude unwinds
In strong sink like a laden sledge.

I want my spirit to soar again,
Not choking in bushfire smoke;
To rise aloft from ground-fixed chains
What’s that ringing? It’s time I woke!

The sun is now up and light winds stir;
I was trapped in a fitful dream!
My escape is here in real life fair,
Airworthy, ready and keen.

My spirit is about to soar at last;
Clean graceful wings are shining.
Bright cumuli are growing fast;
Happy smiles, I’m up and climbing!

Drew McKinnie
Nov 2023