The plane lifts off the runway, all are in silent reverie, the silver bird turning to pass over the city lights below. Cutting through and passing above the clouds, all of the human activity of the airport, the highways, and the neighborhoods are suddenly removed and distant. Everyone seems momentarily reflective of where they are going or where they’ve been as night unfolds above, stars and galaxies infinite.
As the clouds begin to clear, the fading sunlight gives way to the occasional trace of a headlight or yard lamp on the quiet plains below. On the wing, drifting along, eyes against the wind as auroras light the way where the ancient glacier meets the cold moonless northern sky, then, now, and again.