.................................
In Flight
.................................

It's beautiful up here.
There are lines.

Out over thinning wings--
seams, hinges,
rows of bolts.
On the Earth-globe-ground
so far below:

  Thick swaths of tarmac roads.
  Rectangles of grass, trees, houses,
  cars, high-rises; Skydome.
  Irregular shore winding
  off the edge of Lake Ontario,
  its randomness holds
  the insistent ease of nature.

Red sliver of sun is peeking.

Full moon centers
in my square-oval window

and we're going down
controlled
down, down.

Scrape and rumble
of wheels.

Time to walk
the lines.

.................................
Eric Thomas
.................................

 
Copyright © Eric Thomas
July 1996

...three poems in this room by Anna Evans...
the small moments of your face hover
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