You said it’s still winter,
ice sheets around Greenland,

while flying, up above it all,
hermetically sealed,

observing, removed,
the ice withdrawing,

the ocean stretching
to fill a void,

although from altitude
it wouldn’t seem

to be moving at all,
there are subtle things

you miss from austere
heights, giving up

detail for the largest
panorama, further out, still,

with no more borders,
strange landforms falling

under the very edge
of the day,

abstract clouds
and their rorschach shadows,

all still and silent as you
keep moving away.