Para/Poem Challenge "Open"

The hostess, tranquil, is gathering plastic cups
before the runway comes into view,
while I devour the last lonesome peanut
and watch the white echoes
of clouds overhead
persevering in flightiness.

A daring delay...
something about getting in line for the landing,
the pilot’s voice beckons like a drum-call;
we are circling at altitudes
with another patience to discover.

My heart curves around the one at the gate
who must be climbing mountains inside himself
as he waits for me,
for he knows I have placed
my significance in him,
and somehow we'll bring the sky
and the earth together.