(I was reminded of this poem by my former student, Skye Nightingale Robertson. Thank you, Skye. I wrote it in 1990 when my brother was a pilot for Delta Airlines and I was getting up early to teach school.)
Just before the clock radio
Snaps on, I am floating in the dark
Somewhere between sleep and waking
Somehow I know
At this moment
In another time zone
My brother is landing
Suspended forty feet ahead of
Wings he cannot see
He grabs a handful of throttles
And pulls them back.
The turbines settle toward silence
Wings flex slightly upward
And the rippling fuselage sags
Toward the black-streaked runway.
For a moment, we float together,
Buoyed by air trapped beneath the wing,
In the second between flying and waking
In the moment between dreaming and landing
We float toward earth
And the dark dawn.