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Gliders Michael L Wetzel I am entranced by the hang gliders lifting, drifting, floating over all of life's sharp edged strands not concerned, not coerced, just there. They float from sand high to sky places of blues and quiet, and wind puffed ear sounds, never caring, nor planning just there. And then they lift in flight to heights imagined, heightened, focus from my concerns of tomorrows, not directed, simply carried just there. How I envy their flight of freedom from the pressures of low flying seers who know nothing anymore because they gave up, dreams which are, just there. Me in flight now, succumbed to pressures of air flow wing lifts seeing new, feeling again not directed, simply carried just there.

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