The airstream adjusted north

like a snapping of a belt

and warm currents of wind

pushed the beads of sweat

across my temple.

Crows and turkey vultures

ride the updrafts as surfers

of heat waves up and up.

Theirs is an effortless span

as they gather warmth under

wings and glide on a mobius,

stripped of gravity,

and stoked with grace.

To them, the horizon

curves shapely across

like a woman with child.

How I long to be lifted up

to float on a precipice

and draw concentric circles

from a point of grace.

“But those who wait upon God get fresh strength.

They spread their wings and soar like eagles…”  Isaiah 40:31 The Message Bible