Perch at the Edge

I leaned forward from the wooden clothespin and let the afternoon thermal lift my folded wings straight toward the outer ledge. A strong gust met me right at the boundary! Instead of turning back inside, I tilted my paper keel into the swirl, skimmed smoothly past a ceramic coffee mug sitting on the corner ledge, and touched down right along the wide metal handrail. My paper nose cone points straight out into open airspace. Down below, tiny cars zip through tree-lined avenues like runway lights, and the distant ridge marks the farthest line I have ever mapped.