My pink girl flies off the verge of the world, all aplomb. I stand numb, watch her surge down the throat of the plunge. She chases the sweeping cirrus clouds that swirl like windflung feathers, outraces the deepening shadow shroud over white-faced hills, braver than her brothers. The wind’s loose grasp unfurls her, spins her short curls to coronas, shining, sunstreaking raspberry girl, her long shadow streaming behind her, alone as I, clinging frozen to this whitest of walls, until her echoing laughter reminds me how to fly off the rim in a glorious fall.