Thirty Eight Thousand Feet Poem by Nancy Crossman
Thirty Eight Thousand Feet
How different the world
From seven miles high;
The clouds are like cotton
As they slowly drift by.
Silver wings glistening
Jet engines whine;
It seems we’re not moving,
Suspended in time.
How connected we are
To the world this way;
From the ice to the sun
In only one day.
It’s really amazing,
This view from my seat;
The world’s not so big at all,
From thirty-eight thousand feet.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/9/2024 11:17:36 AM # 1.0.0.1119
