I stand

in the shadow

of a silver spire,

which extends,

unending,

into the hazy,

cloud speckled sky.

Four

sculpted soldiers,

positioned at one end of the memorial,

forever guarding

the core values of the Air Force.

They stand unrelenting,

unperturbed

by the cluster of children

snapping photos,

whose voices are

reminiscent of the growing

roar

of an airplane engine.

Children weave

in and out

of the soldiers’

uniform postures,

careful not to brush

the sun-warmed metal figures.

The panorama

of a nation’s capital

is an alien world

seen from this angle.

My eyes skip

between roofs

and towers.

They seemed tall before

but now

they cower below the memorial,

like they didn’t notice the spires

rising above.

This view

must be exactly

like that

seen

from the cockpit of jet,

when rocketing

over landscapes

only few have the chance to behold.