Bright was the sky as the engines awoke with a rumble of thunder,
Rolling the tarmac in echoes of journeys yet destined for wonder.
Cloudbanks assembled in towering billows of silver and shadow,
Lifting their faces to heaven, where sunlight had painted them golden.
Far on the edge of the runway, the steel-winged vessels lay waiting,
Southwest and Delta, their banners aloft in the warm evening fading.
Emerald-liveried Aer Lingus, a voyager bound to the island,
Glided in grace on the threshold of travel through luminous currents.
Wheels left the earth with a whisper, a moment of weightless suspension,
Gravity yielding to flight as the city unrolled far beneath us.
Golden horizons drew rivers of fire through infinite heavens,
Burning the clouds into embers that drifted in luminous torrents.
Upward we soared, where the world lay in pools of cerulean mirror,
Lakes interwoven like jewels, reflections of sunfire descending.
Billows of vapor, like castles of foam on the rim of creation,
Tumbled and rolled into canyons of mist in the twilight’s dominion.
Flame on the wings, where the heavens ignited in hues of vermilion,
Rays from the sun, like a god’s final whisper, embracing the skyline.
Shadows arose in their silence, dissolving the last glow of daytime,
Stars in their vigil awakened as night claimed the realm of the heavens.
Michael Stephen Wills Photography 