A Plane is Soaring

A plane is soaring overhead Against a bright blue sky. I wonder who the people are Who chose this day to fly? Some relatives about to land In time to share a meal, On this eve before a holiday Both somber and surreal? Or some business folk returning home From meetings out-of-town, Reuniting with their families, Looking just to settle down? Or some tourists on a long-planned trip To take in New York’s sights? Or the crew and pilots, needing to Unwind from all these flights? I sit here in the yard, relaxed, And gaze up in the air, Just grateful that today I’m not Strapped in a seat, up there.