The Long Cold Tumble

At five thousand feet
The pilot cut the engine
And pushed the little Cessna
Onto its starboard wing.

We fell into a sweeping spin.

Farms
Fields and freeways
Rushed steadily
Toward our fragile little cockpit.

As our propeller windmilled
My heart was pounding
With the panic
Of a rabbit at the maw of a wolf.

The pilot laughed.

At the last possible moment
The engine sputtered and caught.
We clutched air
Like a mountain climber
Grabbing shale.

I could not wait to land
Anticipating the joy
Of shoving my fist
Through the pilot’s teeth.

But I did not.

I thanked him for the thrill
And waited until
I was alone
Before throwing up.

I’ve learned to defer fear
Shoving the acidic panic
Into my gut
Buying time
Acting on the moment
Before me.

There'll be time later to shiver
Plenty of time to quiver.

Feel the long
Cold tumble from the sky.

Learn that death is easy.
Dying is hard.