Gold Seekers

Written in 2009 en route to the Senior Olympic Games in San Jose, California.

Pleasantly, presently
flying over Phoenix.

In the moment,
mounting anticipation
while crisscrossing our nation.

Framed farms seen through plane windows,
Below, flat plains pass,
flatter plateaus passing,
faster as California looms closer.
Crops dense,
tangled circles, squares,
quasi-quilts in shades of brown,
green, tan,
muted beige.
Roads, streak through dustbowls,
bowling west,
shooting north,
feats of engineering,
sparing traveler’s feet from pain.
those first brave seekers of gold,
whose feet felt every mile
since leaving the Mississippi dust and mud,
and crud behind, over a century ago. Like us.
Olympians! En route, we are
Gold seekers, rushing westward

Hoping to hear the word:

WINNER!

Pilot starts to brake,

Gonna claim our take.

Wing dips,
heartbeat skips as landscape tilts,
crazy quilts increase,
mountains running west to east,
below our seats.

Captain says 30 minutes to go.
Flying fast, feeling slow. Just
A silvery dot seen in the sky
by those below.
Our shadow’s just that silent spot there,
on the ground.

Slower and lower we inch
towards the Pacific.
We feel terrific.
Flaps up,
San Jose, beware!
We’re almost there!