Flying High

Up here where the air is thin,

I see the clouds roll by and then,

A sea bird rises up to glance,

As our eyes meet by happenstance.

Down below a world is bustling,

With going to and fro, and hustling. 

So busy they've no time to see,

The beauty here for you and me.

In the sky as formations pass,

Made of misty water gas,

I see illusions forming near,

Like trains, that you can almost hear.

The earth below, like a patchwork quilt,

Of greens, and golds, and brownish silt.

Blue rivers cut through with each curve 

As I look down and gently swerve.

No obstacles are in my way,

Along this stretch of sky highway.

Like a bird looking round,

I see the place where I sit down,

And as that rush of freedom fails, 

I leave a mark of thin contrails.

The ground then rushing up to meet,

As wheels they bounce,  below my feet.

There, it's done, I've landed then,

And can't wait, to go up again.