musing poem #3

By Jacqueline Jackson

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deep dusk I gaze down from the
little cessna at the california roads
now strings of bright moving beads
the little towns puddles of light
the big ones their mall areas awash
spaced streetlamps tiny points and
off in the dark hills here and there
the single gleam of a house a barn
I pick out a country road’s moving light
as it inches slow as a bug. I think,
people in that little car I wish you well
then wonder are those persons aware
someone far overhead is wishing them well
probably not then wonder might there be
anyone down there amongst the thousands
who is glancing up at our blinking lights
red on the port wing green on starboard
wishing us well maybe so maybe so

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