An Airplane

An airplane flying overhead Is vibrating some things in my house, As they all tap their mechanical, molecular fingers; Speaking in a sort of rapid fire morse code Repeating their distinctive call sign, shaking the maracas Of their cosmic strings, in accord with the seismic rhythms Of some huge and distant oscillating jet engines And I feel my own spine too, like a uninhibited dancing skeleton, The kind you see dangling near doors on Halloween; Trying to jump up, to join in that seductive harmonium of frequency; And the floor beneath doing it's own rendition of an impending quake, The dishes vibrating noisily, wherever they touch one another Sort of like a 'free love for all' moment. While above, clueless passengers stare out of their tiny windows Amid the apparent nothingness of more and more clouds Horizons stretching to furthest limits; graceful curve of Earth While themselves sensing an airless movement beyond reach Of gravity, on seamless oceans of pure intention Or maybe they doze fitfully, with the traveler's acute exhaustion Unaware that for a moment the flatland beneath them Had a rendez-vous with something soaring freely through only air Unconnected locally by any visible means; Still some invisible thread was making felt it's contact. And how many more things go undetected down here As we go about, busy in our formidable brains Only allowing those things access That seem pertinent and timely. The world's resonance is it's own purest beauty Set free as the first spinning atoms Found one another's gyrations: but only by mistake.