Cottonball clouds over Latvia

I can see the plane’s shadow gliding
over the tree tops down below,
as we climb to cruising altitude.

Floating above the little cottonball
clouds a bit later, the country,
its fields, rivers, roads and villages,
rolls back underneath me.

I’m on my way to meet you,
flying over Europe while you
speed on rails under the Channel.

London, here we come.