is somewhere at 30, 000 feet
By way of privilege, career, and circumstance I’ve
come to know what it is to chase the speed of sound.
Arcing path through the stratosphere strapped in
a silver tube with not a thing to do but wait.
Never foreign or stressful, rarely a cause for
concern, it is in the air I allow and give over to
that which others call God or the universe or fate
or destiny, it is the force I chose not to define.
Weaving through clouds around the moon, with the
earth I inhabit and share far below, is the precious gift
of time, place, space, and grace where I am not alone,
but wrapped in odd, though familiar comfort, left to
consider my yearning passions, searing fears, precious
memories, human frailty, and secrets yet unburdened
while racing an indigo sky.