You’ll see many fairies play
Ready, Set, Gust Away
when windy storms puff through the day.
Climb a hill and join the line
of fairies waiting to recline
on bands of air that twirl like vines.
From far across the land you’ll hear
the roaring of the soaring air
that jostles trees and tousles hair.
When it stirs, prepare to dive
the very moment it arrives.
If you go too soon or late,
you’ll miss the blow and just deflate.
Catch the flow and ride the rush.
Over land you’ll whoosh and thrush.
You’ll spin and tumble through the sky
faster than your wings can fly.
The people on the earth so tall,
will seem to shrink to fairy small.
To land, just point your legs straight down
and plummet toward the grassy ground,
(while gravity pulls out your frown).
Flutter wings to stop a crash
or to a limb your fingers latch.
Then if you’ve had enough of gusts,
settle down and have a hush,
but if your gushing heart does dare,
go catch another band of air.
Yet another fairy instruction poem*, just a first draft.