Earth's Curvature

I gazed upon it once. I surely did. In a big ol’ jet plane roaring east at seven-plus miles above the planet. I saw it there just outside the insulated glass. Just beyond the wingtip. Just beyond the multi-paned window that drew my eye as dusk morphed...instantaneously...to night. The jet raced east as the sun plunged in the west. In a fleeting confluence of vectors, I saw daylight turn crimson, then ebon, in the blink of an eye as I traced the curvature of the Earth.

At 37,000 feet. In a cramped tube of riveted aluminum.

I was awestruck momentarily. Imagine me, soaring so high that I actually witnessed the Earth’s curvature!

As I said, the feeling was fleeting. Just a transitory fugue.

Truth be told, all I wanted at that moment (and every moment before or since) was to encircle my love within my arms and crash to earth. To fall to fragrant grass. Nuzzle into dew, sweet scents, the tickles and whispers of rooted green things. All I wanted then, all I EVER wanted, was to dig my toes in loam and thrust my hips against hers. All I EVER wanted were the truths of flesh and blood, stone and bone.

To lie pressed together on a hillside, my love and I.

As the earth curves away.

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