Falling onto that season softened bed of leaves was the greatest of bliss, for though it crunchy too, though there were sticks and beetles, breathing in the aroma of the earth and watching the freeform clouds was my kind of atmospheric poetry.
Falling was what I did best, always realising how to land just right. I was the lucky cat, so they said. Yet gravity is my friend because Earth is my home and it keeps me so well rooted and grounded. Besides, falling is another kind of flying when you relax and learn how to stick the landing.
Never watch the sky as you fall, yet take a glance at the ground for the safest place to land and recover your wings.
Falling, soldier, is part of flying, so get used to making good landings and getting up fast.