Poetry: Beshadowed | clivejames.com
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Why this one landing out of the hundreds I’d
Survived was being shown on the overhead
TV in the plane, who knew? Enough that it was
(As captured by a camera in the nose
It must have been, given the screen’s presenting
A dead-on view of what we were descending
Toward). Enough to savor this surprise
Sight of things as from the pilot’s eyes:
Of the drome as a whole (though it was only dusk
The field’s lights already a luciplex)
And a strip that as we neared looked more and more
Like our destination in particular.
The one most memorable element
Was a plane preceding us in its descent.
Not to say I wasn’t seeing rather –
The dusk does funny things – my aged mother
Returning to earth (or so it struck a son,
Himself beshadowed, following her down).