The only limitation to limitless wonder
is the size of the airplane window. One can take in only
so much, perhaps just enough to start a song in the soul.
The song rises on strong currents of wind as they
push agreeable clouds past the little porthole onto
life six miles below.
Cloud faces and odd shapes and playful animals,
artistic creations that change with the moment,
perform on the transparent stage, leaving their shadowed
presence on the sprawling landscape.
From great height, mountain ridges fold into shadowy valleys,
thin blue lines of water wander aimlessly, and, then,
without warning, human contributions to the
developing mural appear, streets ordered and laid out in
tidy patterns, organized for aesthetic efficiency.
Across the plane’s narrow center aisle, two people play
the verbal game known as “My Briefcase Is Bigger Than
Your Briefcase” as each, in turn, tries to outshine the other
with personal adventures and professional accomplishments.
They seem to enjoy the contest, unaware of
or uninterested in the artistic display beyond their shaded window.
Perhaps if they raised the vinyl window covering, they
might be persuaded that adventures and accomplishments
take a distant second to great billows of clouds
dancing in the morning sun.
Sonoran Desert Writer 