“All the lost fears are here again.” ~Rilke
The clouds across the lake launch two flights, the bright yellow jet, rising isosceles from the runway, belly-revealing, terrifyingly steep, and a great blue heron, bully to the comical cattle egrets, coming in arched wings of perfect geometry, sticks his landing, stakes his claim to the near shore. Not that jet, but another, the Tuesday red-eye, took you away from me and now, as before, I do not sleep. Fear, like the heron, bullies me just after midnight into wakefulness, arguing soundly with reason and logic. Perhaps he will never return. I will circle the airport Sunday at 3:30, while your flight circles the airport for a 4:10 gate call. He was never here; he lives only in your imagination and longing.
Gasping I surface
call you, two time zones away
it rings no answer
© Jilly’s 2016
In response to Writing Prompt #2 A Haibun