It's always sunny above clouds
—

It's always sunny above clouds,
Granted, it's not night, that is
Granted, you're on the right side of the globe,
On a plane, off to somewhere.
Off to somewhere for business or leisure,
Above the clouds and thinking of aerodynamics,
Or that there's next to zero chance of surviving
An airplane crash, or of nothing in particular.
Submerged in the drowsy state of half-awakenedness,
Steering off to dreamland after a long day
Of walking, walking the streets of the city
That reminded you of your hometown in one or two
Subtle ways, yet completely different, yet instantly familiar.
Steering off—but then suddenly
Jolting to the roar of jet engines, confused, scared even.
The plane cuts into cotton-light, lead-heavy clouds
And heaves nervously, as the sunlight dims,
Hidden above the rainy carpet. You, below,
With your fellow travelers, breathe a sigh of relief
When the landing gear touches the ground.



Comments (3)
This poem is a perfect portrait of the half dreaming, half aware state so many of us experience while flying. The sensory and emotional layering is stunning.
Ah it sure is A feeling! You’ve captured these fears and joys well Andrei! 😁👍
I feel like you just landed from a long flight. So, where are you? ;D This is so immersive AND a fun read. I really love the opening five or six lines, and this bit is my favorite: "Or that there's next to zero chance of surviving An airplane crash, or of nothing in particular."