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
A Cup of Songwriting 