Aloft, alone
with engine roar measuring my pulse,
syncopating the whistle of wind to my breath.
Wide sky aerates my eye
and my worries are mapped below -
a calligraphy of river wend
glittering through the propeller’s arc
I pilot this curve of shadow and dapple
Between valleys and creases of
checkpoints plotted,
parentheses inking rivers and roads.
I trace distances, plot minutes between before and after -
my prop parting the approaching clouds,
my rudder dragging the dust of runways long gone
and I breathe, pendulous, light-headed, beneath canvas wings
my compass swinging fore and aft, unsteady, uncertain.
Alone, held aloft
by simple faith.