Last night, level at Fl 410,
above the clouds,
silvered by moonlight,
the stars scattered far and wide,
above, beyond, and around us,
a beaming Mars rising red/orange in the east,
and some distant storms flash/flashing in the far distance,
we knew for an elusive moment a sense of peace.
Beneath us a northeaster was raging,
and that turbulent, rain-swept, crosswind battle at Morristown
was yet to come (Joy !)
God is good to us.
This was a Facebook post I came across this morning by a friend of mine who's a pilot. I don't think he particularly meant it to be a poem. But I really, really liked it. So I've added some linebreaks and posted it here.