The Full Gamut; Along the Gauntlet

The Full Gamut; Along the Gauntlet

Traveling lady,
leaping the continent
like a comet
of consciousness,
humming in the sky,
carrying the precious cargo
of music,
for those who care
about her wares.

Rising with the sun,
churning through the cold gray
waters, slicing and pushing
to reach America,
and then to zoom
across its back
on another of her incredible
commutes.

Rolling on rayon
first,
racing past those
sleepy farms
and fallow fields,
sending her salutations
to the animals and birds
swept up
in her wake.

And then to launch
herself again
into the turbulence
of the stratosphere,
skimming over
verdant forests,
and countless farms;
over rugged peaks,
past towering mountains,
brilliant white
in the morning sun;
on her busy way,
again.


Watching state after state
slowly revolve
and rotate
beneath her silver wing;
the ground dotted
with divers patches
of green,
punctuated by
vast vistas of arid
brown—
with snow in Colorado,
the Rockies wearing
happy hats, and
rain over the Great Lakes,
as Chicago blinked and waved,
hour after hour
with those behemoth engines
doing their Gregorian chant
while gobbling expensive
jet fuel
like a ravenous teradyktal;
sometimes frolicking,
covered in clouds,
God’s cotton candy,
only to burst
into great patches of blue,
as she resets her wristwatch
and begins the descent
through industrial gases
to drop down light
as a feather
onto the broad back
of a BigApple.

Glenn Buttkus 2008