Time to Fly

I spent one of the most enjoyable Canada Day evenings I've ever had watching the new Superman movie. When I was riding home, there was a crescent moon and fireworks and cloud covered stars. I rode across the parking lot just before coming to my house and I barely looked at the ground. The stars were wonderful. The question that I asked myself, looking up at those stars was, What would it be like to fly? To see all those glorious lights closer even than an astronaut?

It was sort of like regaining the wonder of a child again. I haven't let myself dream of anything for a while now, but this night, I saw something I had when I was little. When my dad held me in his arms one night at our cabin and pointed up at the stars. It was a night of shooting stars and clear skies. I was wrapped safely in my favourite blanket and looking at those stars I could dream.

I know this sensation will leave me once the sun rises, maybe even before then. But tonight I enjoyed this sensation, this small gift. It made a world of difference, if only for a moment. From my solitude I found it, but in this poem I hope to share a fraction of what that felt like.

A Happy Canada Day to all you Canadians out there. Dream for me.