Through The Window Glass Poem by Rochelle Cashdan

You who wondered at the wafer that Alice ate,
making tables shrink as she attained new height,
accept it as mere logic, for as man takes flight
space becomes a lens that can create
a new perspective on anatomy below.
To cross the body of the earth is slow
compared with speeding down the hardened veins
called roads when viewed along accustomed planes.
New depth changes the relations that we know
so that fast is slower, large is small,
then large again. Man, who with soft fingers made tall
buildings blossom, scales them down by building planes,
then stares past aisle at neighbor, who though just his size
drives a car turned corpuscle by wondering eyes.