Silvery Mist
R RoseAnn V. Shawiak
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Feeling the jet now backing off, turbulence rocking us
about, having to stay seated and keep our seat belts on.
A silvery mist hanging just outside the jet window, I
wonder curiously about it's unique presence, pondering
and dispatching each fantasy, as I investigate them.
Some kind of weather aberration is my thought as I go
back to writing poetry and listening to music, excited
to be headed closer to India.
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