Being Airborne Poem by RoseAnn V. Shawiak

In the air, looking out an airplane window, feeling the
thrill of being airborne again.

It's exhilarating, fun, looking down upon many mountains
made from stones of all shapes and sizes.

Piled high, looking almost like they're touching the sky,
until we fly over them.

Clouds lying all about, as watching, fascinated by it -
in awe, captivated by all that is surrounding the plane,
seeing out and over the plane's wings.

Laughingly sitting, feeling the turbulence playing with
my stomach, watching, waiting patiently for all to come
into view, sitting back enjoying this flight of imagination.