At five thousand five, where skies entwine, We gaze upon the quilt of earth unrolled— A tapestry of farmlands, woods in line, And small towns, stories yet untold.
Lake Greenwood, vast in splendor, lies A puddle 'neath our soaring flight, As we, in metal wings and birdlike guise, Join clouds and fowls in lofty height.
A T-6 Texan, from wars long past, Bears us through the air with propeller's song, Two and a half tons, steadfast and fast, Among the clouds where birds belong.
Yet in this expanse of open skies, Where worlds below us freely sprawl, A voice through static softly cries, Shrinking the universe to a call.
"Are you ready?" echoes, clear and bright, A challenge as we dance on high, To grasp the reins and feel the might, And learn to truly fly.
In moments vast, yet closely drawn, The world expands then tightens near, In the cockpit, where the dawn Of new horizons suddenly appear.
