I wrote the following poem while looking out the window during takeoff from Salt Lake.
We're born to walk, as human feet
Need solid ground to be complete.
By rights the sky's beyond our reach
For Gravity, we can't impeach.
And yet I sit upon a plane
Which soars beyond the clouds and rain
And takes us, dwellers of the earth
Far from the terra of our birth.
This miracle of human flight
Which takes me miles through the night
Is like permission from on high
To take a brief seat in the sky.
I think about that, as I rise—
This invitation from the skies—
To join the light and lofty things,
Despite that we are heavy beings.
I think about this paradox
As on the wind the airplane rocks.
This aircraft too, of metal wrought,
Belongs below, not high aloft.
And yet, through genius work and skill,
Good engineering, fuel and will,
This metal bird can bear us hence
To show us our earth's countenance.
The ancient man would wonder how
The laws of nature could allow
A metal ship, a crate, no less,
To be man's key to weightlessness.
Yet while I share the angel's height
And hold the earth within my sight
And though I know the ground's my right,
I thank God for the gift of flight.
Six miles over Utah, June 6, 2016.