Genius

I can see it but cannot do it.

The gift that stretches that bit beyond;

that final nudge from goodness to greatness;

that toe tap in the air above the ladder

on which I grip my rung high above the ground,

higher than most, but

above I witness the last contact of

skin and bone with metal that marks

the leap of faith into sky

and I can watch that moment when the

footfall somehow finds solidity in aether,

propels upward with the force and

grace and greatness of a god

to whom gravity bows

and the feet find footing

incorporeally racing

upward, upward, upward.

Clutching my rung, I give thanks.

It’s miracle enough to see.