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My eyes are sore
From so much crying.
No mail today, the airports are all closed.
Going about my routine (custom or change inures)
I shopped for food. Not that I was hungry.

Walking along the pavement I saw God's wonder--
A storm was coming, and the crimson sun
Shone through the thunderhead
Illuminating the sky in pure light.
Over 30 years of watching the sun set,
This was something new.
Deep purple, amber and bright orange skies
Draped with hard edged, silver and gold-lined cumulus
Blue open sky, uncluttered by the things of man.

I wanted to touch the face of God,
Like Jon Magee, Jr. in his 1941 Spitfire.
Hard-beating within my chest, I could feel my heart,
My lungs crying out for air, yet filled with peace.
I could feel my soul, battered and bloodied, uplifted.

There were no flights today, but there it was--
A lone vapor trail--piercing white and blinding.
Aloft, the solitary defender of that domain.
Vigilant airman.

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