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Wingtip turns above the far horizon;
Dive into a quarter roll and pull up toward the sky;
Wind has brought a turning of the season;
The year rolls by;
Sing a happy song and think of harvest time below,
Watch your tach and airspeed, listen to the radio,
And grin in wonder at the leap that got you off the ground;
It grows you up and it grows you down.
Silver rivers thread the velvet nighttime;
Lakes are burnished golden mirrors in the waning day;
Roads that you have traveled through a lifetime
Just fall away;
It paces your survival with your faults and foolish pride,
Finds you so accountable there’s little left to hide,
And gives you such humility you wear it like a crown;
It grows you up and it grows you down.
`Spin’ and `auger in’-they’re said together;
Maple seeds will auger in but birds go spinning too;
Spins will draw the line down at the hangar;
They always do;
But climbing up to altitude through sky of brightest blue
To stall and roll, to pirouette like all dust devils do,
Then laugh and climb again to watch the ground go
whirling ’round and ’round and ’round-
It grows you up and it grows you down.
If you, like me, have lived afraid of dying,
Then study stick and rudder and the law of gravity;
There’s nothing like a simple dream of flying
To set us free;
It’s the voice of every river, it’s the vision on the hill,
The fire in the belly and the dance of wind and will;
It fills your days with sweetest peace and turns your life around;
It grows you up and it grows you down.
