Shadow Wrought's Journal: 100 Years of Flight

In honor of the centennial of manned heavier than air controlled flight, I would like to offer the following poem I wrote a couple years ago while waiting to begin flying lessons. Enjoy;-)

172

I hear thee beckon oh creature of sky,
Even as thou sits there, silent and still,
While fastened to ground against thy strong will-
Against thy bonds doth thou strainest to fly.
I know thou wouldst have me by thy heart, high,
That I should guidest thee through cold air's thrill,
And whilst dancing with clouds, embrace their chill-
Though I hear thy summons I canst but sigh.

A week, maybe less, separates our dance,
Disappointment till then is all I know,
As only stale earth shall my feet feel.
But still my heart soars when given the chance,
Soft vapors yet wick me into their flow,
Whilst hoping my pangs for thee, too will heal.