Half Agony, Half Hope

Flying

I sit by the window, looking out 

Cold-palmed, the morning sun streaking through damp clouds,

Radiating through triple-glazed glass.

I feel it soften the upstanding hairs on my arm, 

The breeze of the air-freshener.

The rumble against my seat; I feel sick;

My breathing’s light and quick, my head floats from my body

Then it’s calm, tranquil, balanced. 

It’s a row-boat on a summer’s day, when the water’s clear and smooth;

I look through the window and enjoy the view,

The country fields, squared off by hedges,

Fading into distant clouds,

As we fly.