Just up ahead, the clouds stand in the way, Obstruct the path we take through footless halls of air. They tower there as if to say “Let man and plane take heed what e’er befalls Within, for there the dark and wind will tear The wingman from the lead, dissect the flight, Ignore the plight of formation. Beware!” I stare at lead, his rocking wings catch sight, The wordless signal to rejoin. My heart, it skips a beat. My breath is shallow, fast. I guide my aircraft there, three feet apart From wing to wing, just as the shadows cast Our flight into the dark. The only thing I see — through bouncing sheets of rain — his wing.

There is one golden rule I oft forget, The way I ought to act Is this: That unto others do As you would have them too Do unto you.

Was it the sun, the sky, The gentle breeze Or puffy cloud floating by, That made the perfect day? Or was it the when I heard him say, “Dad, will you come swim and play?” My son.

It dawns upon my mind… When suddenly I glance And see below the sunbeams dance On lakes and ponds, and wonder how Above the canopy, its bow I see a grazing beast, a cow. It dawns upon my mind That unseen forces hold me here A fingertip from Lead, and fear Gives way to bliss.