the sky is gray
the clouds are blinding
until a soft crack!
of pink lightning shows me, rosily,
the plane passing overhead.

in my mind there’s a woman onboard,
wet-lipped and radiant,
savoring a medium-sweet wine,
flying through the storm.

she’ll be somewhere
in a ballroom tonight.
she is there,
I am here.
I am home.

she passes over me
deep blue sky overtakes gray
and we are elated
in streams of our own