Last jump of the Day

When it is the last

jump of the day,

The winds usually

flow off their way.

Evening winds are calm,

but may become variable.

unlike a strong breeze,

which is steady and stable.

A crimson cloud spread

is floating in the sky,

Towards the drop zone,

many canopies are flying.

We think about the future

and we all want to know,

It seems so uncertain,

in a mysterious glow.

When it is the last

jump of the day,

The winds usually

flow off their way.

The canopy glides softly

eager to land quickly.

A fluttering sound swells,

when the wind fills its cells.

During its silent glide,

I get a reflection on life.

An adventurous life is like,

living on the edge of a knife.

The canopy is like life

braving the random chances.

I feel the unsure winds,

are like the circumstances.

When it is the last

jump of the day,

The winds usually

flow off their way.

I trust my instincts

reaching close to the earth.

the joy of this jump

is what makes it worth.

As I inhale a deep breath,

hanging between life and death.

I will be jump again I bet

The touchdown is no sweat.

I cease all the efforts,

and let the body react.

Many things happen,

in the way, we expect.

When it is the last

jump of the day,

The winds usually

flow off their way.

Here comes the touchdown

as softly as expected,

The way we built our life

by the vision, we reflected.

The way we think the future

in the thoughts we reflect.

As the builders of our reality

That’s what we may expect.

When it is the last

jump of the day,

The winds usually

flow off their way.