Interloper

by Robbi Nester

Once, it seemed a lark
to ride among menageries
of clouds. Yet every
common traveler now
takes it as his due
to fly low in a flock of cumulus
or bump along a cobbled trail midair
composed of nothing more
than vapor, yet capable
of sheltering a storm
or shaking unwary
people from their seats
because they’ve dared
to borrow wings, to travel
in an element not quite their own.