Planes circle overhead

Outside dust stained windows

Bustling people away and close

Making their way from coast

To coast

On the ground cars rage honking

Swirling

Speeding

People walking

Talking

Thinking

Ignoring

We hold hands

Weaving through the crowds

With subtle plans

We think

We can

We hope

We plan

In New York

No second guess

No delay

Or deferred progress

But I sit wondering

Looking at the planes overhead

Shuffling the people around the world

New York to LA

In clear light

Late in March

On a sunny day