Flight North

Its warmer above the blanket,

That cottony cover that shrouds the

Still sleepy coastline, over which I fly.

Below it, dawn’s breaking remains unknown,

It’s signal flare not seen.

But we have sliced a tear,

Shown it to be nothing as we rise toward the

Automatic cheer of the day’s beginning.

And now, as we leapfrog the blue-haired chain of

Seven Sisters, who stretch and reach for the

Reality above, I watch their timeless peaks pierce the shade,

Their craters catching the first amber rays,

Surrounding cinder cones appear as

Innocent dimples on the smiling face of a

Rested Earth.

Leaving hurts, but

This helps.

RWW 2009