Flash-Flash. Flash.
Crystalline strobes of reflected sunlight pierce the clear air
Reflected from frozen ponds and ice-covered marshland,
Unseen from any angle except ours.
We rise impossibly fast, without effort, then bank
One wing toward the bright sun,
The other at farms and fields and woods, and a
Man shoveling snow from his driveway.
Higher in seconds than any other conveyance except dreams
Could provide.
We know what is coming next.
Our horizon will expand to reach the edges of the world
And details of river and city and roads will begin to blur
Into a great continuity of life and fractal patterns.
Attachment to detail will fade
And attraction to the whole will grow stronger.
But right now, in this place that few ever see,
In this in-between place, low and fast and rising,
We enjoy the seconds of bliss
And observe with fascination the details of the
Receding quilt of life below,
And wonder at our gift.
