My next challenge writing. Thank you to Moka for the quote: "A sound soul dwells within a sound mind and a sound body."

Hard muscle-bound machine,
sleek curves in perfect shadow in the half-light,
sinuous rotation and swivel, poetry,
liquid music gliding by moonlight,
a compact angel spurred to
breathtaking heights in seconds,
gasping and soaring still higher,
land stretches on for miles down here,
it's beautiful and it's all pulsing,
rushing within her tiny form.
Exhilarated, heart pounding, breath rushing
in her ears, she pumps her wings on, on,
luminous feathers drifting to the ground.
Catch one in the starlight and absorb
through skimming fingertips its glow, its
magic. Breathe out, sigh in the night.
This fell from the most expansive,
the most beauteous, limitless, innovative,
evocative of souls. This is a rare
find from heaven and come plain day
it'll vanish, the silver-dusted feather dulling
to tattered gray, so make it real,
reach with it to touch the stars and
connect, press it to paper and seep it in as ink,
brush it to your lips and sing it,
vibrating into the air, make it tangible by dawn,
capture it before it's gone.