Gnat with an engine
Buzzes through the evening sky
Swallowed up by black
—
About the poem:
The manmade plane that buzzed through the vast sunset, disappeared as suddenly as it appeared. It’s not that I don’t believe in airplanes, but I’m still amazed that they exist. And on a Wednesday evening, that someone would be buzzing around in one. What a view that must have been! How small and lovely and part of it all one could feel in a small plane at sunset.