|
The desert is black at night.
Ahead is a checkpoint,
If you look quickly.
Behind is the weaving Colorado River.
Navigation backups mean little at this altitude.
The darkness absorbs us.
We descend through three thousand.
Ten minute warning,
And the pace quickens.
Back in the cargo compartment the scene has changed.
Loadmasters in gray helmets stand at assigned positions.
Checklists are taken seriously.
The moment approaches.
The cargo door cycles upward,
And the ramp goes down.
Behind is the gaping hole of darkness.
A few points of light twinkle in the void,
Swaying from side to side.
Our sister ship swings into view,
And then disappears.
The hole is empty again.
A cool breeze permeates the cabin.
A gentle wind flaps against a piece of loose insulation,
And time stands still.
Down low in the turbulence,
Our ship struggles for survival.
The gate is cut,
And a small pallet rolls off the ramp.
It disappears into the consuming darkness
Towards a dim rotating beacon.
The aircraft climbs sharply,
In a right bank.
From the cockpit, two sister ships appear to the left,
Formation lights casting an eerie glow.
For what reason would man be here,
Hovering in the darkness?
|
|
|
|
