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The Concorde

At thirteen, I saddled Patches, my pony, for my first

Solo fifteen-mile ride to grandpa’s ranch. Chafed

And exultant, I arrived in three hours to a hero’s hugs.

At forty- five, I took a Super Sonic flight from New York to

Paris without a welcoming party. Memory of the three-hour,

Sound-Barrier-Breaking flight above the clouds has faded,

While the urgent, gurgling sound of rushing water splashing

Around Patches’ legs, as we forded White River, is forever.

18 views2 comments



urgent, gurgling, rushing, splashing, can hear and see this one so beautifully Glen xoxoxo


Fascinating how what might seem to be monumental to others dims in comparison to our own emotions from simpler times. Well done, Glen!

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