Dawn wafts in at a distance –
a crimson glow amidst the cloud
like mounds of angry smoke.
We float above a cumulus, with
old empires wasting beneath
the loaves of precipitations.
The child in me always
believed that angels lived here
up in the shining layers of the sky.
But now, black heft of crowded soot
hang there in shapes of gnomes
as our wing extends into a distance.
trapped in man’s reckless bet
against wind and gravity.
In this cubicle, this window view
into a waking world
there is no silver lining, except us,
far above everyone else.
Defying the sky,
I am here as this daylight begins.