Awhile ago I posted a poem from the Indianapolis Airport. Here is another one. I don't know why I am so fond of these things, but I am. I just love the romance of flying.
for now you're flying
over quarry lakes, green water
where stone was once cut
for the Empire State,
the nation's capital, buildings
all over the world
aspiring toward sky
deep and blue
as you, heading away
or back, thinking of the people below
living their lives
above bedrock
formed from the silt
of ancient seas,
on prairie plowed flat
by glacial ice. And though
you are of that swirling earth below,
for these few moments
you float
with some small time away
from the matters you're going to,
the places you've left behind.
- Joseph Heithaus
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