We took off in the storm, snowflakes so fat and heavy
I swore the wings would warp under their weight.
The blinding light of them, lit up methodically red
red red as we flashed our existence across the sky.
The skyline wasn't ever visible; the runway fell away
quickly, and we were alone, a slim grey tube
in the dark bright wasteland of night snow. Like stars
the flakes appeared in the windows, each instant
a new crew of shapes and crystals, faster than blinking.
The tilt of takeoff pushed us up into the clouds
till we broke free, topped the giant domes,
shouldered out into the clear black night.