Focus

 Focus is the locus

but mainly on the plain.

The plane in the sky

flies by with nary a glance

at the wide expanse below.

 

The pilot is focused on

instruments and altitude while

flight attendants are focused on

passengers with attitudes

and snacks, scarce as smiles.

 

I used to look forward to a flight

my belly tight with nerves at ascent

the pleasant drowsiness of the climbs.

But now, the chimes of seat belts on

creates a rock at my center.

 

An hour or more in the air and

careless folks cough into no mask;

the task of preventing illness

a willingness no one shares.

I feel a sniffle coming on.

 

The focus of the locus

is mainly on the plain

and that’s where I wish to be.