Dawn light not yet arrived,
and the dream still so alive in the body—
the astonishment of flight
still rising like a tide in the blood.
Are the blankets real?
Or the weightlessness?
How is the wind still tangling my hair
even as the cat curls warm at my side?
What is this gravity?
For a while, I lie between worlds,
one steady, the other wildly free.
Even grounded, my body can’t unknow it,
ecstasy.