poetry by j matthew waters

transcendental burial

they flew him in via Qantas
having settled for a window seat
far removed from decades
of commotion

at O’Hare they whisked him
to an electric golf cart
making a beeline to an Embraer
fueling outside the hangar

once back in the air
he seeks out a familiar sun
rising exponentially
evolving every quarter mile

[few of us are capable
of going from past to present
in a matter of mere minutes
let alone twenty-four hours]

but this one is special
already realigning the landscape
in thought & thought alone
at thirty-five thousand feet

october two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

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