44. THE LAST PARACHUTE AT AMLOR

THE LAST PARACHUTE AT AMLOR
I scanned skyward the eyes I wore
and watched above me something soar -
without being sure of what I saw
I sensed it was of broad abandon.
A man it was floating down towards me:
like something from the sky - skillfully erratic,
crazily imbued, and crashing softly at some
right-angle to the ground, to suddenly roll like a
bale of hay. Unshaken by advice, I did what
anyone would do - dart the open field to see
what had fallen. And there it was, bruised maybe
but sound and not bloodied. A young man of
about 35, with a skillful hand and anxious eyes,

who stated 'that was weird! I don't think
I'll do that again.' I said I hadn't seen his plane and was
thereby doubly surprised to see him falling.

'No more surprised than was I' he said, 'no more

surprised than me.' At that, I helped him gather his

billowed cloth, pack his snaps and suspenders away.

He bent to remove his boots, and from a backpack

took sneakers out and put them on.
He turned, said 'thanks for the help!' waved, and
set off down the field. I watched him until he was but
a diminishing and a distant dot.