We flew endlessly, miles above the surface, engines humming.
I looked down through a hole in the clouds; saw emerald fields
and a dirt road seldom traversed.  I found myself wondering if
someone looking up could see that hole I was looking through.
our eyes would meet in a nod of existential brotherhood, and
we would become eternally bonded as fellow humans.
I doubted it, though, for a slate of gray clouds loomed above yet.
Mother Nature saw it right to hide us in her own natural camouflage.
So we hung in limbo, between the layers of fog, neither here nor there.
I hate to fly, and my mind wandered to the worst-case scenario;
we'd fall down through the hole to smash upon the crops in a fiery heap.
Probably catastrophic engine failure.  Or perhaps swatted out of mid-air
by a petulant giant swinging a smoked turkey leg.  You know,
like the one's you can find at the county fair.  I gripped my wife's hand,
noticing how painfully sweaty mine was, wishing to be anywhere else.
But, in spite of a few bumps and the useless rise in my blood pressure,
the plane narrowly escaped catastrophic engine failure in that brief
moment.  I became excited for our impending arrival in Nassau.
The shining sun, blended drinks, fish fries; still assuming we got there
in one piece.  Drum beats from the Junkanoo tattooed through
my fingers quietly on the armrest.  We would dance deep into night,
then retire to the beach to laugh at old stories with new friends.
I'm sure if we were spotted from down below by all
the hard working humans, our freedom would be envied,
possibly even hated.  I became a young Marine Corporal once again,
standing guard on a frozen winter's night to protect the secrets
of that quiet hole in the clouds, my fellow passengers,
and even the mean old giant with turkey grease glistening on his lips.
It was my somber duty.