Today's Inspiration & Writing Prompt

ABOVE IT ALL
Philip Levine
Strapped to my seat, I turn
to the thin Air Force major
and ask how far to L.A.
He lifts his sunglasses, stares
down at the ocean slipping
beneath, and says, "50 minutes."
We've left the land behind us,
the stump-pocked crests, the creased hills
of Vandenberg Missile Base
where nothing moved, nothing breathed
except one lone steam engine
pulling nothing, and the waves
which came at the shore as though
they mattered, row after row.
The major reads; his lips move
soundlessly, wordlessly
like a lunatic's in love,
he reads that they're making us
get out of our cars to be
counted, they're getting tough
and we're getting tougher back,
he passes over the small
blurred photo of Jean Cocteau,
the names of the champions
Cerdan, Lamotta, Piaf,
for whom there are no poems.
If I shut my eyes I know
I'll be in a private home
for the blind where things are worse.
My good neighbor, the major,
looks at me. His eyes are young,
placid, and light blue as though
unused, and he offers me
half his newspaper, offers
his window seat--for he's seen
it all--offers a comment
on the weather but not on
the night which seems to be
gathering at the margins
of sight or the bottom
of the ocean or in
the twin periods marking
the dead centers of our eyes.
WRITING PROMPT: Think about a memorable experience you had on a plane: an unusual view out of the window, another passenger, your feelings while talking with your seat mate. Close your eyes and imagine yourself back in that moment - What thoughts are running through your head? How do you feel?