Down through the rippling
veil of clouds I see
the sun reflected off a Great Lake—
A vision worth the risk,
a miracle to witness no matter
what the price. I used
to stay home, safe and secure,
protected from the chance
fall of Icarus. I used
to presume that death by immobility
would be preferable to this
sky rodeo with its ever-present
opportunity to come down hard.
The land, the lives below me know
not of this brilliant invention,
this magic metal tube in motion
between the azure of Heaven
and the myth of Earth.
What wonder, ocean to ocean,
awaits a flying soul? A quilt
of time to traverse, and
in the southern distance
yet another cowboy pilot
jockeying his mount eastward,
contrail streaming behind.