A wave builds. Rising higher and higher behind you,
you stroke like mad and hope with all your heart that
you will be able to make the drop.

The drop is big. The drop is great.
The drop is sheer speed, gravity and matter.
The drop is a feeling in the pit of your gut.

You talk about the drop all day.

You think about the drop all day.

You will dream about the drop tonight.

You remember the best drops for a lifetime.

You are a fighter pilot falling from the sky
towards your target.

You are a hawk, stooping toward your prey.

You drop, tucking in and trimming and digging
your rail into the face to control your descent.

He is able to keep my eyes from tears, my heart
from fear, and my feet from falling.