Turbulence

Most flights, even if they’re smooth,
Will hit a patch of pitch;
It cannot be prevented and,
It’s not a pilot’s glitch.

You’re reading, chatting, or a-snooze,
And suddenly, you’re jolted.
A flight attendant reassures,
“The pilot’s haven’t bolted.

It’s just a little turbulence.
Your seat belt must be buckled.”
Easier for her to say,
While you sit there, white-knuckled.

Usually the calm returns.
The bumpiness recedes,
And folks relax and breathe relief;
The journey now proceeds.

It’s just like life: we travel on
A road whose ruts are hidden;
And sometimes, unexpectedly,
They trip us up, unbidden.

But hopefully, we straighten up
And reattain our bearing;
Though surprises wait for us,
There’s really no preparing.

Still we venture out each day,
For hope is instrumental;
Though turbulence may come our way,
We hope our ride is gentle.