Seven Miles Up

Last week I went to Las Vegas for the annual GME Conference, and on the flight back I was able to get a window seat.  I’ve always loved being able to look out and watch the world from so high up, and I was inspired to write one of my now-rare poems.  I hope you enjoy it.

Seven Miles Up

Everyone should take an airplane trip once in a while

to gain a little humility,

to see our great constructs as patterned specks

our vast farmlands as a patterned quilt

the mountains themselves as crumpled paper

squeezed by some great Hand and then dropped.

Even the great rivers are reduced

to ribbons of silver bordered by fronds of green

like filing gathered around a sinuous magnet.

And then to look

up

up

up to a sky so utterly blue

it seems a breath could blow it away

and reveal the black and star-strewn Kosmos

hidden behind the azure film.

From seven miles up

the world seems both vaster and more small.

Hidden patterns of nature and of our own

are laid plain.

Life, us, all things strive for patterns

sense from senselessness

and in that we find beauty.

The meanders of a river

the whorls on my fingertip

the billion year dance of stars.

Patterns will out,

and in this I sense the Oneness of all things.

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