Flight West At Sunset

The plane took off due west and rose

with ease above The Keys—

Key West first, then littler ones,

topped with palm trees’ tropic green.

We were the masters of the air

and smiled at the part that was cloud.

That fell away as we ascended

and changed course, banking North,

Only minutes later to return West,

the pilot again laying us on our side.

I had a window seat facing South,

several rows behind the wing.

Light from the setting sun beat on us

and spilled around the struts,

Those tapered boxes that support flaps

that are used for landing and take-off.

Sunlight scattered around one of these

that lay directly between me and the sun

Was being spun into a radiant blur, a fuzzy,

amorphous, partial rainbow, green to red,

Yet enough to show that a miracle

was happening. We continued to 38,000,

Twice as high as the cumulus below,

purposefully, as if it were owed us.

No doubt it was.