She’s in the air right now—
    STL to ATL,
    cloud-skipping her way back

    to where I’ll be landing tomorrow.

I’m grounded,
    in every sense of the word,
    pacing through punchlines at Oscar’s,
    working, just to keep my mind from lifting off

    while watching pitch counts and wind speeds.

She’ll land well before the first pitch,
    clock a few hours at her own gig,
    then:

    screaming for the Cards in a sea of Braves fans.

I’ll follow the game
    the way I follow her—

    carefully.
    completely.

Every text today’s a little wisp,
    curling up toward her flight path,
    hoping she sees the shape of what I mean…

Like I’m writing in the sky
    with fingers crossed,
    in cloud-ink spelling just one thing:

    Tomorrow.

Clear skies ahead.