“Five years ago after visiting Skydive Perris during the P3 Spring Fling 150-way and falling in love with our international skydiving family mom wrote this poem. I love it… even more after a few small additions she just made. Hope you enjoy…”
DANNY POEM
DannyBoy, you and your sky people are somewhere
above the clouds in the clear blue sky
creating your kaleidoscope of patterns,
your big-way formations,
your messages to the world.
Your divers fly to you from around the globe
even from nations at war with each other
(but not sky people… I like what you say,
“the air doesn’t care.”)
So high above our sight, we wait for videos
of your breathtaking constantly changing
diamonds, wheels, rectangles, Olympic rings,
Stars of David, fireworks, PEACE, VOTE…
… How many judged formations in seconds
before the sky fills with colorful chutes
and hundreds of divers floating safely to earth?
Here I sit at Aunt Marilyn and Uncle Herb’s Florida house.
Across the pond, on another lawn,
I count (not hundreds) but eighteen white ibis
clustered in their afternoon gathering.
They are non stop in their fascinating choreography-
Now lined up in military order. Now forming circles.
Now scattering and coming together.
They are not in a hurry.
They take their time.
No competition to win gold medals.
No sky patterns for good causes.
With my feet on the grass, a drink in my hands,
I watch the birds on the lawn across the pond.
This is exciting enough for your mother who cannot fathom the life of her child who lives in the sky.
Love, Mimi Brodsky-Chenfeld
Image by Randy Forbes
