FLIGHT OVER THE BADLANDS
By Samantha Mozart
We fly over windswept buttes
Carved in antler patterns, visions of ghostly dancing winds;
Semiarid, broadly roamed by herds of trees
Rushing toward precipices of yellow, buckskin bluffs.
Flat, brown land. Puffy white clouds.
Like popover dough spooned onto a baking sheet
Regimentally, like charging cavalry, shadows
Casting spectral tepees across a high, wild plain.
Hot, dry weather to the north, the weather report said this morning;
Hot, muggy weather to the south.
We fly over the side that won our flight.
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I believe that may be an interesting aspect, it made me think a bit. Thanks for sparking my pondering cap. Once in a while I get such a lot in a rut that I just really feel like a record.
You are a very bright person!