A bird awoke me in the night, laughing: Fly, Linda! Fly!

And I did--like a swallow or a nighthawk, the only thing separating me from flight and the other bird was thought.

I got up and went to the balcony. Leaves rustled. Chimes below sang once. The light-limned clouds and trees celebrated my belonging.

If I could accept myself. If I could accept the flight.

I never saw the Alps in Switzerland, but I knew they were there.

A late afternoon swim, a skillet of hashbrowns and a few Hershey kisses finally cured this girl of being desperate to know. Too much universe in one night. Sometimes nativearthlings have to have their feet, please, firmly planted on earth.