And you’ve been
I just wasn’t
I hear your breathing, but none of your words.
I sense your waiting, the presence of patience with the energy of action, like the runner waiting for the pull of a trigger.
Is it my finger you wait on? Or is it my hand you quietly take into yours before the door flies open and we are off?
There it is, that core stirring of my soul as I feel myself before the latched door of this plane, feeling the wind outside pull me towards the jump I will make when finally it swings open and we are off