with gratitude for Ada Limon

The flight from Egypt
Had no number,

No attendant’s reminder
To secure your own mask

And then your child’s,
No guidance for stowing

Bulging carry-ons
In shifting upper bins.

Before you, walls of water
Shuddered in flashing darkness;

Behind you, a fevered army
Bore down in harsh pursuit.

Though frozen with fear,
You upped and fled.

I know that giddy liberation
Soon yielded to “what now,”

That miracle receded
Before desert and mountain.

You doubted, grumbled,
Moaned, despaired,

And were meant for something.

In my life, runways are groomed
And flights are logged;

Even now, above my house,
A plane rumbles low,

Coasting towards
A scheduled landing.

I live in the flight path,
Tending to the daily.

But on some April nights,
I head down to the tree-lined street.

Above me, distant flights
Flicker and flare,

Dappling the moonlit thatch
Of palest green new leaves,

And I trust in something.

In 2014, Joan S. Soble retired after more than thirty-four years as a public school educator, specifically as a high school English language arts teacher, literacy coach, and professional development specialist. In her eclectic blog So Already. . . A Blog about Moving Forward, Paying Attention, & Staying Connected (https://soalready.blogspot.com/), Joan is often inspired to write about others’ poetry and Jewish issues. Several of Joan’s poems have recently appeared on The Poetry Porch (https://www.poetryporch.com/).