EMPTY HEADED AT 32,000 FEET

 

Empty headed at 32,000 feet

sudden fatigue; suddenly restless

hopes for inspiration

traveling south quicker than I am

 

The plane hurtles through the sky

I see clouds and fog where

they allege Newfoundland is.

 

No moss covered longhouses

jutting out of the ground

hiding from pillagers.

 

I look out my little portal

& I see nothing

which sadly mirrors

the thoughts in my head right now.

 

Author's Notes/Comments: 

That's what I get for trying to write a poem flying home from Iceland.  It rained there and it rained here and I just couldn't find a rhythm.

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To Pick Up The Miles

and see the globe, miraculous! slc



~(:D)-