Engines glisten as
our Dash-8 imitates a
seagull. From my
window perch clouds are
cotton sprinkles
of misshapen puffs
the plane hovering
like a kite
now descending from
18,000 feet. Roads
thread through colourful
swaths
on a busy pallet
where farms highlight
crops in
stitched patterns
lakes surrounded by a
rim of cottages
more like puddles
poured into a sink-hole
of woods.
Landing safely
a relief of expectation.
© Richard L. Provencher
Published February 2010
Folly Magazine
ISSN 2152-9132
