The Geometry of Wonder

Winging homeward from the grandkids, north to south.

The hills of Marin colored bright green by early

       October rains, the angles of Bolinas

and Point Reyes

     jutting out into the Pacific waters,

                        the curves of the rivers

                                    emptying out into the shining sea.

Cotton-puff clouds hovering below the endless sky.

     above the damp earth, the wing out my window

           cuts through the wisps, as if opening the window

              to the next view below.

Light refracted in the shimmering ocean, bumps of distant islands,

        dots of drifting boats.

The plane tilts with bird-like grace, its hum an arced bow

     to the music below.

And me, for once, no wires in my ears,

no nose in a book,

no eyes glued to screen.

The good sense to just sit and watch

as we cross to the city’s edge.

Now the metallic glint from roofed houses, the blue dots of swimming pools,

        The green diamonds of baseball fields, the cloverleaves of freeways.

              On to the salt flats and a perfect sideways rainbow from the East Bay to my window.

                     A cornucopia of geometric forms and shapes and colors to welcome me home.

How much of each day are we truly alive

   to the wonder of it all?