Eagle's View
I look down, eagle's view.
Cotton balls, white as chalk
Solid as anything.
Can't see through them, hard as I try.
Everything minuscule as if
It had no importance in the world.
Golden pools, once big lakes
Now tiny mirrors of the sun.
Small as a drop of rain,
Sparkling below
But we are dry.
Soaring above it all.
Turbulence catching us in it's fist,
Like that speckling of a boat
On the lake.
Rising and falling. Up and down.
Then calm.
Droning engine
Dulls the early morning beauty
Of gushing waters and quilted mountains
Sewn together with strands of brown.
And patched with cotton balls,
White as chalk,
Solid as anything.
Can't see through them, hard as I try.
