As always in airports, my sketches and associations help wile away time. After reading through some entries during flight, I built this poem with its strict formality reflective of consciousness on the planet.
The language of aliens laid out below
iterate shadowed cloud an interruption
of the glyphs of bird's-eye-view
A fog, a nimbus, white wet snow
far from the sad corruption
of peopled green, its hues
Like spinnered tracks of dominoes
spell natural disruption
of the planet that we use
From savage to savage still we grow
depending on our gumption
and ability to schmooze.
This message, a sign, it's all we know
a humanity eruption
some history's clues.
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