From 30,000 feet

I penned this en route from London to Nairobi, just after we crossed over the ocean to the very tip of the north end of Africa...then reworked it a bit once I got home.

5:24 p.m. - Kenyan time

Separated from the earthy, arid floor 30,000 feet below,
my gravity-defying molecules rush over
the vast Libyan desert.

There are the most beautiful lines of streaked sand...
running like veins,
searching for water over its scorched skin,
parched and unsatisfied,
yet moved only by the fiercest wind.

It reminds me of what wet paint does when I hold the canvas upright,
rapidly descending the surface,
spiralling,
then touching another color,
then jumping away again.

Squinting through the brown hazy of dust,
I can make out a few tiny structures -
cement shelters,
oases in the unrelenting heat.
They form a smattering of mint-colored patches -
like the brown paint of desert is wearing off in spots
and the snow of ice ages past
is showing through.

This is Africa.