Gently Rising

Gently Rising

The view across this archipelago
just after dawn,
courtesy of my seat on Kenmore Airlines
last week.

You get a lot
for your flying dollars here:
not just a lap belt,
but a second,
full harness belt
to sling across your chest
should you have any doubts
as to how the flight will turn out.

I think I may have used it
the very first time I flew this route,
not wanting to tempt fate.
Now, almost 30 flights later,
my formerly white knuckles
have long since returned
to their natural calm pink.

Rather than mull over
what a sudden water landing
might feel like
(uh, very cold, in a 52 degree ocean),
I mull over the impossible power
of glaciers grinding
across this area
15,000 years ago,
and how the serendipity
of gravity
created such grace.

Still half asleep
when I pointed my camera
into the little plexiglass window,
I was enamored of the softness
of the smoky pastel tableau.

As always,
I had to remind myself why
I was leaving for a few days.
And as always,
I immediately thought ahead
to the beauty of this palette,
seen later in the afternoon
with the plane’s nose pointed north,
not south.

Going away
is filled with the promise
of invigoration
from the outside world.
Coming home
is filled with that
from within.

Alex Shapiro September 2008
Linebreaks by Glenn Buttkus