Sitting on the edge of the river walk on a beautiful and clear Seattle night, I see lights emerge in the sky. They seem to burst into life, as if from the heavens. They are streaking across the sky, left to right. On their way to oblivion.
Yet, they turn when they are almost out of view. And they head toward me. Growing bigger as they get closer. The lights suddenly light a trail in the water below. Shimmering. Dancing. On their own way through the night.
These lights grow larger and larger, until they start to form their own unique shape. There’s one light. No two. No, now even four.
The plane passes overhead. It’s booming sound cutting into the gentle lapping of the waves. It passes straight overhead. And I look up to watch it float over me.
As I bring my head back down, I look across the water again. And there they are. More lights emerging from the heavens. And the dance begins again.
