An aeroplane is not to us a weapon of war, but a flash of silver slanting the skies; the hum of a deep voiced motor; a feeling of dizziness; it is speed and ecstasy.

– Pilot Officer John Gillespie Magee, Jr., author of High Flight, in a letter to his parents

Will I swim today? Ah, that is the question. Because it’s jacket weather. Still, what a sky we walk under. And the most amazing things happens. Me and Charlie and Suzi and the special one cross the trestle bridge and walk into the wide open meadow. First, there is only the slightest, slight breeze, and a leaf here, a leaf there, floating and drifting down so we can almost catch them. But, it’s up ahead, the magic. On Sunday mornings, I have often passed them, the men who fly their model planes have gathered in the meadow that is also, partly, their club. We have stumbled upon their amazing show! Suzi relaxes, the perfect mascot, at the feet of a couple of men. Charlie checks out the donuts, here in the open air. Some of the flyers spot the special one I’m carrying. I find out that he can join the club himself in seven years. We sit on the grass and watch the take-offs and landings and aerial stunts in the breezeless sky. One wonderful gentleman has taken us under his wing––shown us the stuffed animals in his cockpits. He uses music from his boom box to accompany his flights. We are having the most amazing treat! Soon enough, we must head back. Poor Charlie, another anxiety attack, but we finally get him over the trestle and home. I have a lot of prep work for my Play Lab tonight; and then attend a book launch for some of my poetry friends on Zoom. I open my own poem, the draft that’s difficult. I eek out another draft. Needs work, and I may bring it to workshop tomorrow night. Then, it’s time for my swim. My brother, amazingly, is nearby, will meet me. It’s chilly. Now the challenge is: I know I will enjoy the water. It will be the getting out that’s hard! We plan our route, buoy to buoy and off we go. Mostly, it’s enjoyment. I’m happy to swimming with my brother under this fantastic sky and there is a little flash of sun in my eyes. I was right: the getting out is hard. There’s no time to talk; the shivering starts. We get quickly to our cars, the heat turned on. It’s done! Now the rains come, the next couple of days. Will I swim at Farm Pond again?