Mobility

Tap away on my
Imaginary keyboard
To keep with the times

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Flight (Draft 1)

My country looks strange

from ten thousand feet

The landmarks seem small.

no roads and no streets.

Only hills that roll

and highways that wind

past all horizons

and into my mind.

The clouds cast shadows

on the plains below.

A pleasing mosaic,

A place I might go.

Then I close my eyes,

think on what's below.

Millions of people,

with places to go.

Doing their business

without me in mind,

exactly the way

I know that I'd find.