Earth From Sky II

Traveler

saw the earth

from the back of
a silver eagle,
looking down
on water

dotted with
islands
blue and green,
tall mountain peaks
arising
like a seer's

 most majestic dream.

From above,

she could see
almost as
far as God,

puffy perfect clouds 
in an infinity of sky,

a limitless horizon
utterly unflawed,
for man to
set his 
fondest aspirations by.

She flew so far

tall coastal mountains
changed to

desert hills,

brown and rounded,
dots of
tumbleweed and sage,
tall sandstone cliffs

lining the arroyo
which have
stood sentinel
for an age,
since a time,
she had
been told,
when this valley
was once

an ancient riverbed,

rushing waters

roaring through here
in bygone days of old.

Traveler,

suspended

between the earth and sky,

protective

celestial sphere above,

patient, steadfast, enduring
earth below,
knows herself a

citizen who can
choose to
walk or fly,

denizen of
no place/every place
she has
ever/never
been,
as well as 
of the
spirit world,
all that remains
unseen.

In the desert,

she sought the memory

of the young girl

she once had
been

in this
now so strangely
unfamiliar land

she was
nowhere to
be seen.
That girl  
now  lives

a world away,
and free,
within the
siren call

of the wild and
western sea.

When she
returned to earth,
long would she
remember
the sight of earth
from sky,
distant and flawless
as an
untouched dream,
as if
nothing bad
could mar
a vision
of perfection
so beautiful
that so far
only God
has seen.