Convince me that the September sky isn’t its own territory and beauty. 

Tell me I wasn’t up there with them for the briefest moment, changing the most minute angle of feathers to dive like a missile. 

It is breathtaking that I can’t explain to other people why the September sky is alchemic to me.

Things must come down. 

That’s not the point.

It’s the act of ascension where the magic lies.