Ruminations of an Airplane Passenger
Before the Flight Turned Around
& Returned to its Departure Airport
Up thirty-five-thousand feet above the ground,
going around and around and around in circles
for more than an hour in this flying tin can,
and far below, Rapid City is choked in mist
to the point where you can't even see it,
as if a sorcerer had cast a spell & hidden the town
& perhaps the buildings are now toys in this conjurer's top hat,
& looking down at that Emerald City of clouds is dizzying
& the sickly yellow light of morning pains my eyes
for I have had no sleep in twenty-eight hours
& my parents are waiting for me at the airport
to take me to my sister's wedding in the Black Hills,
& all I can think about is what will happen
to my computer files if we should somehow crash.
About the Author: G. M. H. Thompson enjoys golden sunsets with fine wine, taking long walks on the beach, & getting to know you better.
Image Credit: Chase Dimock “Airplane Wing” (2024)
As It Ought To Be 