Silvery Mist Poem by RoseAnn V. Shawiak

Feeling the jet now backing off, turbulence rocking us
about, having to stay seated and keep our seat belts on.

A silvery mist hanging just outside the jet window, I
wonder curiously about it's unique presence, pondering
and dispatching each fantasy, as I investigate them.

Some kind of weather aberration is my thought as I go
back to writing poetry and listening to music, excited
to be headed closer to India.