Humbling Journeys

Flying over great bodies of water

Seen from the air, they appear

Like art canvas in varying shades:

Brush-stroked or pallet-knifed

Cobalt, Prussian blue, slate,

Pale viridian - to name a few

I feel so insignificant

At times like these – hours

Of passing nothing but water

The only things seeming as endless—

At least thus far in my travels—

Viewed from the air,

Are mountain ranges

Row on row of snow- covered

Peaks, that from 30,000 plus feet

Appear somewhat the same height

It is illusory but equally humbling

Travelling by train or car

I get the same sensation

Going across the prairies

In North America or up around

The great lakes in Canada

While that section of road and rail

Doesn’t really go on endlessly,

But with the twists and turns

Through the Canadian Shield

Passing through steep canyon

Walled tunnels and past

Thousands of un-named

Lakes and islands, some

That still show on no maps,

It seems at times unending

And has the propensity

To make me feel diminished

I find myself, especially

When flying, thinking often

Of brave Amelia Earhart

Flying off into the great

Unknown – radioing

To land that she and her

Co-pilot were lost but

Not that worried –

And then, they were

Never seen

nor heard from, again