In the darkness
of early morning
the supermoon
descends
to the horizon.

She is like a nightlight.

Strong shadows
fall against
the white snow

becoming longer

with dawn.

An airplane
moves across
the navy sky

40,000 feet up.

Behind it
a long tail
is left in its wake.

Heading west
over South Dakota
toward Montana
the passenger
in 14C

wonders

if her notes
were clear enough
for the house sitter.

The child
in 9B
slumps to the side
face planted
in a pillow.

In that clear
star lit darkness
the man in
20A

contemplates

the prairie
the tiny towns
lit
by streetlights

clusters

of ice fishing villages
huddled together
on frozen lakes.

Meanwhile
in Oaxaca, Mexico
a monarch butterfly
senses a climate
change

a beckoning

to fly north.

From
10,000 feet up
it smells the pollen path
over the open desert
over the traffic congestion
of San Diego.

The monarch finds
the eucalyptus trees
along the California coast
clusters of butterflies
mating
dying

living.

In Cuba
from 12,000 feet up
the sandhill crane
begins to

imagine

Nebraska
and the reunion
in the Platte River Valley.

Nestled in my bed
in a deep winter
slumber

I dream

I am 1,200 feet up
just above the snow
covered plains.

The prairie grasses
also in a winter slumber
beneath white.

With a determined
focus
arms held out
to either side
I fly
toward the supermoon
as it slowly
slips
beneath
the horizon.

Photo by Robert Larson, a Minnesota photographer