In Transit & Arrival in Paradise

The plane ran us right up into the sky over New York City. A massive city became a child's play blocks. Tiny trucks crossed the George Washington Bridge. Then we played with clouds for hours until we glided to the earth in Denver where shadows ran like thin sheets of water, night chasing daylight towards the east. 

Finally we arrived in the airport at Jackson, Wyoming. 

One young Brooklyn resident said to no one in particular, "Here you can see stars!"

We can. We shall see many more.