a leaf in the wind

So cold and numb, the hailstrikes scarcely hurt;
their relative velocity's quite small.
Ten thousand meters off the Aussie dirt,
Wisnierska wasn't piloting at all.
Unconscious baggage in convection's blast
her glider--packed with snow--persists to fly.
Her life-force on the wane, and fading fast
the mystery is that she didn't die.
Where Gadd and Castle opt to sit one out,
she takes the meethead's word the day looks good.
Subordinating any private doubt,
'though now, she might repent that, if she could.
Mere gossamer within the stormhead's suck
she lives to fly again, through dumbest luck.

Experience

Wiśnierska's famous 'cause she didn't die
past thirty thousand feet, where air gets thin.
The meethead deemed the weather fit to fly;
to scratch the task would mean she couldn't win.
Convection carries energy aloft;
excited molecules each take more room.
Despite appearances, that cloud's not soft;
the white room's dark between each flash and boom.
Competitors--too oft--subordinate
their own good judgement to that meethead's call.
The race is on! And those who hesitate
can't add a shiny trophy to their wall.
While Gadd and Castle opt to sit one out
a lesser pilot can't admit to doubt.

powered

The Ozone layer shields us from UV
absorbing photons in its short-wave slot.
Those photons leave behind their energy;
each daylong hour, the tropopause gets hot.
Earth's shadow cuts that flow off every night;
black-body radiation cools Earth's face.
IR flows out, that had in-come as light
a tepid ember radiates towards space.
Beneath, it's sport to soar the troposphere
where heating's driven by warm Earth below.
convecting thermals get me out of here
be it from foot-launch, or from aero-tow.
The solar fusion-pile supplies the drive
that makes a pilot feel that they're alive.

booming

Monsoons graze California in July
arroyos that lay dust-choked race, and churn
But where coy virga leave the surface dry,
the desert vegetation's prone to burn.
Convection that a pilot rides all day
can over-do it with a  frightful jolt.
It's time to fold our fragile wings away
before the valley greets that lightning bolt.
Mulholland stole their river for his town
and Owens farmers still revile his name.
Now, what was orchards' all sage-green and brown
and episodic'ly consigned to flame.
Firefighters don't appreciate the joke;
the empty Owens Lake's now filled--with smoke.

postage stamp

A Winter wardrobe strews the sun-scorched sage
while specks of Dacron dance the bright Spring air.
His club-mates mark his spot, but not his rage.
Their lamb for Wanda, girt in underwear,
has been accepted! Their day's just begun.
they've miles to log as lift and luck allow
before the glory of the driving sun
is blotted out by towers of rumbling cloud.
The driver drops some beers, but dares not wait;
his radio can't reach past line-of-sight.
For dawdling to pack up, he'll marinate
in bitterness until sometime tonight.
By breakfast, as the exploits get retold
he'll feign to sympathize that they got cold.

low flight

Cast off the surly bonds of gravity;
embrace the joy awaiting us on high.
It's not enough to live life in 2-D
when once you've realized we're meant to fly.
A kite's a pretty minimal machine
a bargain, amortized on so much fun.
And as a sport, it's almost wholly green;
convection's driven--gratis--by the sun.
Uncircumscribed by stadium, or court,
with little but the wind for us to hear.
Apotheosis in the realm of sport!
We're only bounded by the atmosphere.
A pleasure long beyond the reach of kings
belongs to anyone who'll take to wings.

instability

Convection roils our lower atmosphere
transporting solar energy away
if, at most frequencies the air is clear
not brown like Delhi, Beijing, or LA.
There, photons give it up far overhead
the upper air's no cooler than below
the column luminesces infrared
and what's been heated's got no place to go.
Still, all of it must stratify at night
for lack of insolation, gravity
like Maxwell's demon, sorts them out by height;
the atmosphere grows stable as a sea.
Inversion's normal as the night grows old
but when the soaring's sweet, aloft it's cold

blue bubble

Convection roils our lower atmosphere
transporting solar energy away
if, at most frequencies the air is clear
not brown like Delhi, Beijing, or LA.
There, photons give it up far overhead
the upper air's no cooler than below
the column luminesces infrared
and what's been heated's got no place to go.
Still, all of it must stratify at night
for lack of insolation, gravity
like Maxwell's demon, sorts them out by height;
the atmosphere grows stable as a sea.
Another planet, orbiting its sun
might prove quite alien, when all is done.

top angler

Unflapping, as if painted on the sky,
her pinions balanced on the April breeze
no meal escapes her glitt'ring yellow eye
who perches on the air, as if in trees.
The osprey stoops, our breaths and heartbeats pause
she exits dreamtime, very much awake.
A trout now thrashes dumbly in her claws
that thought itself the big fish in this lake.
The timeless drama, predator and prey
the plumpest sacrifice the waters give
will feed her nestlings for another day
unless fish die, their predators can't live.
To mourn this death too much would be absurd;
my sympathy's entirely with the bird.

catharsis

unflapping, crucified against the sky
her pinions balanced on the April breeze
no fleeting ripple can escape her eye
who perches on the air, as if in trees
the osprey stoops, our breaths and heartbeats pause
she exits dreamtime, very much awake
a trout now thrashes dumbly in her claws
that thought itself the big fish in this lake
the timeless drama, predator and prey
the plumpest sacrifice the waters give
will feed her nestlings for another day
unless fish die, their predators can't live
to mourn this death too much would be absurd
my sympathy's entirely with the bird

score!

unflapping, crucified against the sky
her pinions balanced on the April breeze
no quarry can escape her  scanning eyes
who perches on the air, as if in trees
the osprey stoops, our breaths and heartbeats pause
she exits dreamtime, very much awake
a trout now thrashes dumbly in her claws
that thought itself the big fish in this lake
the timeless drama, predator and prey
the plumpest sacrifice the waters give
will feed her nestlings for another day
unless fish die, what piscivores could live
to mourn this death too much would be absurd
my sympathy's entirely with the bird

giant mystery

Cassini showed us Saturn's atmosphere
convecting like to soar there should be fun
but only nine percent of what shines here
impinges there, so distant from the sun
the latent heat ammonia gas conceals
to form a cloud, and rain back towards the core
is barely half what water vapor feels
but there, when driven less, the storms rage more
ongoing gravitational collapse
could keep gas giants warmer than their peers
but I'd expect that's done in weeks, perhaps
and should be spent before four billion years.
The second-biggest planet in night's sky
has raging tempests. No one can say why

team flying

"kick dust!" he urged, and I did what I could
to mark the wind where Tom proposed to land
his shadow dwindled from me as I stood
in bitterness, and sage and burning sand
one hundred miles to Janie's Ranch from Walt's
395 inspires a pilot's dreams
beside the shriveled river in its fault
seductively, the century mark gleams
 the heated air breaks free and roars aloft
to carry pilots back into the sky
when someone on the ground touches it off
his club mates get to claim it and get high
each valley crossing takes a bit of luck
but Tom just never seems to give a fuck

narrow window

impending rain, Ed Levin's going off
unfit to train, it beckons us to soar
high-pressure ridge yields to Pacific trough
and pilots feel old yearnings in their core
suburban foo looks best in vernal green
and mustard blooms paint sunlight on the hills
it's not the loveliest fly-site you've seen
but on the right day, still provides some thrills
the window's tight, pre-frontal doesn't last
you'll need a driver to retrieve your truck
before the road's closed to mud and storm-blast
and vehicles on top will all be stuck
we're grateful for a bit of rain and snow
but all this moisture keeps cloudbase too low