Reflection Through an Air-bus Window

Dark City Lights

Under the dark, city lights
the white stars are distant and vague.

The only exceptions are those metallic "shooting-stars";
moving against the current of the clouds.
In flashes they blink: red green red

Look at me, fast, with me
voice their flashing beacons; each reveal the shadow of a wing.
Harsh-lights drawing attention to faint figures trailed by empty, un-answerable roars.

What if we were we to dim our city lights?
Would we see against the black pupils of an air-bus window:
the white of the stars in the eyes of travelers; wide awake on a red-eye flight?

And looking up from our place, here, on the ground
what might our eyes say to one another...
if our thoughts so easily became words?

Bill Hudson   # April 5, 2016

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