Betrayal   As my parachute blossomed overhead, I suddenly had a moment to reflect — What the hell just happened? What could have led to this pass? Below me, I saw sun-flecked mountains, bottomless deeps; above, beyond the belly of the chute, my name appeared in black smoke, my own plane as the wand, ever tinier, until it vanished. Weird, I thought, descending. A minute ago I’d sat serenely in the pilot’s throne when suddenly my copilot unbuckled me, threw open the hatch, mouthed, We’re done, thrust me into the sky.                                     I was in luck: an undiscovered valley, bright with snow.     © Michael Fleming Dummerston, Vermont April 2022