SILVER WINGS

Just outside the terminal gate,
A storm rolls in, and we must wait.
The thunder churns, the sky grows dark,
The rains still pour, yet we embark.

I see the city, now beneath,
In shades of gray, through misty sheath.
My view now gone, just white and bright,
Into the clouds, we've taken flight.

Peering through the foggy dew,
Now looking up, and finding blue.
Then cotton candy, and fields of snow,
As I survey the scene below.

The canvas next turns red and green,
As fields appear by clear blue streams.
Gliding gracefully through God's sky,
I wave at angels passing by.


David J Allen
September 24, 2004


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