The View from Here

  
So high above 

It all looks like little squares,

Neatly drawn, rimmed in white.

From my vantage point in the clouds,

My chariot of steel,

Seemingly so small and insignificant,

Monopoly houses, tiny trees,

Lakes like small mirrors. 

Reflecting the moonlight,

Each of those little squares holds magic,

The day-to-day sort,

Teeming with life,

With good and bad,

With beauty and with pain,

Darkness and light. 

The real stuff, 

As I fly overhead, 

Waiting to see the little square 

That holds my heart.