A plane is soaring overhead
Against a bright blue sky.
I wonder who the people are
Who chose this day to fly?
Some relatives about to land
In time to share a meal,
On this eve before a holiday
Both somber and surreal?
Or some business folk returning home
From meetings out-of-town,
Reuniting with their families,
Looking just to settle down?
Or some tourists on a long-planned trip
To take in New York’s sights?
Or the crew and pilots, needing to
Unwind from all these flights?
I sit here in the yard, relaxed,
And gaze up in the air,
Just grateful that today I’m not
Strapped in a seat, up there.
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