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We are loaded through a shute into this commuter flight. 
Suited, clutching afternoon papers and magazines  
I settle beside a window and draft my seat belt tight 
Ignoring the deft pantomine of safety routines.   
We're off in a rush with a roar jet-load   
Wings tremoring  with a primal need to flap.   
Up, up through the vaporous fluff of clouds   
To glimpse the living fragments of a ground bound map. 
Engulfed by pastel mists of every hue    
We are pursued by sunset's flood red tide. 
Leonardo knew the breadth of this birds eye view   
Unnoticed or ignored by all inside.  

Overseen by the swelling glow of a blue sky moon.   
I see the weeping gash of a home torn wound.