Water gently pats my raft along.. not wet enough to be uncomfortable, not dry enough to be content.. lying on my back, as I usually am.. I do not see where I am going.. looking up into the sky.. I see such grand images.. I see birds .. flying.. I wish I could fly.. how do I reach the sky? As long as I look at the sky, my fate will be determined by the gentle and not so gentle pats.. I think I have an oar.. maybe I should start using it.. so one day I can fly.. one step at a time and I shall reach the hills of kitty hawk..