Flying through the sky I saw the distant shadow of this airplane against the clouds. The shade tracked us into the distance and disappeared. I began to look closer and I saw…
A flock of cirrus clouds plying their way eastward beneath us
Endless rows of expressionless houses far below
The next state over, expansive tracts bisected by lonely roads
Still further, the checkerboard irrigation patterns of farming
A small town, a cluttered magnet from above
Wind turbines dotting in distant rows
Passing over the marshmallow fluff of a beautiful cloud deck
Wrinkles in the landscape below, a tribute to old elementary school salt dough maps
A jet passes us with ease at a lower altitude
The wrinkles pile up, then spread into flatlands
Small mountains look like exposed fossils of dinosaurs that once traipsed there
Arid, rolling brown land
Strips of brown and green soil, like a long row of exotic piano keys
Building clouds mirror mountains below
Another jet, passing through
The confused noodle of a dry streambed
Wheeling over mountains, the palette of the place I called Home. It’s spaciousness and tendency of quiet in magnificent wild spaces always present, even if I am not
The sun tracks across the lake, a blazing comet beneath me
New subdivisions, identical monopoly pieces
Old subdivisions, all colors, shapes, and conditions
Scrapyard, trucks and cars piled and peaceful in their final resting place
Rail yard, parallel lines stretch toward distant destinations
Rubber hits the road, touchdown.
Shouldn't...but Do 