We live on the flight path.
I watch them at night,
Roaring overhead like dragons,
Lights on,
Wheels down,
Ready to land.
Packed inside each,
People enough
To populate
Some town.
Thrown forward by thrusting jets,
Gliding on massive wings,
They glance out the windows
And speak of small things,
Trusting the pilot to guide
Them safely in.
2 comments:
...and the pilot, in turn, trusting the autopilot.
The cockpit of the future, they say, will have one man and one dog. The man's job is to watch the computers; the dog's job is to bite him if he touches anything.
Ain't it the truth!
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