{vagabond beings}

as the sunset melts into the great salt lake,

i lean my back against the mountain,

watching planes take off, one by one.

i felt time dividing,

then i realized, one might just be the one you’re on.

no one understands nomadic romanticism better,

we are forever wayfaring souls,

mortals meant to meet momentarily.

the city lights start to sparkle as sunset settles into the valley,

as the planes float just out of sight.

–e.l. jayne