"Doing the Wright Thing"

Lying on the sands of Kitty Hawk 

Gazing northward without a care, really; 

Every direction seems justs as promising, 

West, South, East to the sea. 


Read a book once 

All about two brothers, 

Two wings of a bird 

And two birds of a feather. 


Turning the pages 

Formulated a gust 

That scattered my mind 

And picked me high up. 


As these different parts scattered,  

Fluttered around violently,

They dragged my line of vision 

To a direction I had scarcely seen: 


A direction called "up" 

Had become an option for me; 

The brothers had discovered the skies themselves 

Back in 1903.  


We could do anything.  

We could be anything.  

This poem is about: 


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