Take off from SF

Beneath me, far below, the small houses
are like memories of a model landscape:

The motionless blue of the ocean seems painted on,
the buildings are too neatly arranged,
the roads with their little cars
might as well be battery operated.

Level with my sight is the hearth-fire of the Pacific sunset;
and the cloud cover is a cottony blanket
laying to rest all the tiny people
in their tiny homes below.