It is the giddiness
when you stand
back on earth, tangled
in the shroud lines of a silken chute.
It only happens after the first jump,
that leap into the unknown –
innocence like first kiss, first love, first song
– beginner’s luck.
Having jumped off the strut
alone into empty sky no longer blue,
skin on your face pressed into bone
– free fall of grace.
Pull the rip cord, violent jerk into feather float,
and you understand that silence
is the true color of sky
– why birds invent music.
Second time – now you have expectations,
know the dangers, swallow hard.
Touching down, face slack with relief
– no more to prove.
But if you jump again, you’ll jump till you die
singing, like falling in love after rebound,
sipping rainbows held in bubbles’ tender flesh
– three is a charm.