Flight

It isn’t long before sunlight trickles in,

glass-orbed particles bouncing,

percolating like stars in rain.

My boots crunch rock in wet-strewn

pavement, Ireland green marrying

sky-ocean blue. I remember,

it wasn’t so long ago, that we collected

ourselves, stood up on bike pedals and

decided not to be afraid. After all,

wet streets were no danger, cars zooming

around us, we foreigners on the

left-right side of the road. Adventure

isn’t hard to find when fear is not

wrestled to the ground but held, a

fragile bird longing to be given

permission to fly. And so I stay

released, remembering our hands

gripping handles, ice-April air cutting

through cloth: the flock of us,

heads up, wings outstretched, willing

to continue if only to see the next

turn in the road.

-jennifer j. camp