Fields quilt the landscape
and fade into black canvas.
Lights needle forth
up through airy space, up
from bridges, harbors,
winding strips of highway
to form constellations
of seeming clarity. How simple it is
to recess the whole world,
submerge it like a filthy pan
in dishwater, to be surprised
by a kind of beauty
in distance – pins of light,
clouds of suds – as if
I could choose between
this way and the other.
40,000 feet at night
5 responses to “40,000 feet at night”
So well crafted. Love the line break that brings us to the turn at the halfway mark. So visual, from the peaceful scene setting to the surprising metaphor of the dirty dish/sudsy clouds.
Thank you so much! Slowly coming back to this.
❤️
Looking forward to reading your posts during GloPoWriMo. 🙂
Thank you!!