i love this. i am nostalgic for flight.
looking out over the wing at a
sea of dark tarmac and blinking
lights--it is comforting to me.
it takes my mind a thousand
other places i have been
and i find joy in the going.
i see snow encrusted jetways
and breath hanging white and
thick in the winter air.
i see the morning fog swirling
around rows of wings hours
before the sun adds its stifling
heat to the humidity of the South Pacific
i see the backs of thunderheads,
soaring above safe from their fury
but the masked terrain is familiar to me,
etched on the canvas of my mind.
i see the ceaseless sands of the desert
the harsh landscape looks
tame and kind from here.
i see treetops. endless green
a daunting dirt runway is a brown
swath of civilization piercing
the Amazonian expanse.
i see the Rockies' eternal peaks
beckoning me.
a challenge.
i see the ocean far below
a blue blanket punctuated by passing ships
and wind whipped waves.
it all flows back as i sit here,
my seatbelt fastened
still and at peace.
maybe it's because i'm going home--
or maybe it's just because
i'm going.
