Fisherman's Catch

Below me, the city's faint movement paints an image worthy of Dali. I scan the horizon for signs of waking, for signs that the day has begun. Squinting reveals picnics, games of Frisbee, and early bird fishers.As the Earth approaches I can't help cataloging all the details of the happy people going about their day. Maybe my death won't ruin it for them.

Gasping for breath, I struggle against the wind. I pray as I attempt to steer for the lake. Had my emergency chute opened sooner I'd feel more confident about any landing, but at this point prayer is as good a tool as any. 

A flock of geese has settled on the northern bank. Do they appreciate the gift of wings they have been given? Had I wings just imagine what could be done. There'd be no parking hassles, no traffic jams, and no need for parachutes.  

Nearby several fishermen seems to be measuring a catch. Several small fries are discarded into the muddy blue. Judging by the shadows on the water, someone's about to get the catch of their life.