of crooked wanderings

i, enamored of sight and sound

vertical, stretching lines, yawning and spanning skyward and stretching swift,

rushing of wind through canopy aloft,

while below, outward, a manmade crooked path

begging to be enjoined and traversed,

a beacon of connection to earth and wood and life.

while she,

takes measured graceful steps

1200 feet concentrated, wistful,

and present, weightless,

like a butterfly