Soaring

It's 5:01 in the evening and the sky is on fire. Beside the river, geese are squawking and other critters are flipping themselves into the water. A calm breeze blows over my skin and in the distance, I can hear a plane approaching. At first it's nothing more than a subtle din from somewhere over the horizon, but it soon grows into a rumble. Far in the distance, a loon flies from the water, leaving behind only ripples. Beyond the clouds, blinking wingtip lights appear and the sound of the incoming aircraft intensifies. Meanwhile, the sun continues to set and the golden light spills over the river. Night is coming, and the plane continues to descend. It's nearly overhead now, and the atmosphere swirls around the giant machine while the engines roar. The wheels are down; the air is vibrating; and in less than five minutes, this mechanical bird will touch down to earth. Shortly thereafter, all is quiet again.