Wide-eyed, deep breathing
in 45 degree angle ascent
through the clouds.
Knuckles whitened into seat
with the ready, set, go position
past the starting line.
level off to the rhythm
of the death trap and its engine.
Head above the foamy
white sea. Its vastness interrupts
phobia at the window seat.
Sailing across the booming frontier
(not the last) on a soft hum,
I barely flutter to new phases.