Turbulence

Turbulence

Betsy Brown

My student’s plane crashed in the snow.
I never quite know how to pray
For the dead. But I often try.
To God, I say,

My student’s plane crashed. In the snow
The wings looked brittle, like a bird’s.
And the photograph was so small.
It looked absurd,

My student’s plane. Crashed in the snow
She cannot tell us why she fell.
I keep the note she wrote in class
Like it can tell

My students. Planes crash in the snow
Most every year. I cross my heart
And hope to live. The engine sings
As we depart.

My student’s plane crashed in the snow.
I see her, sometimes, in the sky,
A genuflect of silver wings
Still crossing by.

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Betsy K. Brown
Poet & Teacher

Betsy has been published in Circe Institute, Relief Journal, AWP’s The Writer’s Notebook, and Curator Magazine. She is also a monthly columnist for the Institute for Classical Education. You can read more of her work at betsykbrown.com

Photography by Geoff Coombs