Flight (a poem)

I thought it would be like water and see the reflection of the stars but it was clouds.  Clouds lifting and pushing against the cabin, they glow from the city and become mountains and they are beautiful and I am glad it's nighttime so I can see this happen.  Radio towers pulse like lightning, streaks across the horizon that waver like a mirage.  Tangible and unattainable.  Light and water redefining the landscape as if it were clay.