Heart To Pilot

Heart To Pilot

I saw you in the heavens;
a shining jet,
so proud, serene
yet cynical,
mocking small shapes below.
With your avoidance,
you avert amorous traffic;
glide the sky
by your radar.

Then I saw you
in a hangar, refueling,
as if waiting for me
reluctantly.
I made my approach,
a diversion
from my flight plan.
I invoke your smile
and recall the impression --
radiance, air,
but out of reach.

You rose;
separated from gravity
and the earthly forces
that sought
to shut your engines down --
fighter pilots
gunning for your eyes
were so observant
when you were young.

Before departing,
I saw you and smiled again.
Clouds were in my eyes;
birds in my fuselage.
I wanted to fly
higher, prouder.
My engines choked,
though I flew.

Deflecting charm;
resistance, experience,
the thought of our sojourn
dreamily rose and fell.
I lacked the heart to pilot,
for fear I would provoke
another deathly disaster.

I saw you
in a dream,
in a tail spin,
smoke from your belly --
fire ruining good engines.
The parachute, the fall,
screaming metal bones crashing --
all the pieces
on the ground
now cold.

Somehow
they pieced you together;
your appearance stronger,
more resilient.
My masculine compulsion
yearns to soothe
the ruffled armor --
the weather beaten wings.
But on closer inspection;
found you perfectly warm,
a motor timing in tune.

I saw you taxi
down the runway today;
a riveted frame,
effortless and wise,
steadily climbing still air.
Not a sound --
a smooth sailing craft
in mid-flight rhapsody.

Dangling over the world
aloof and alone;
taunting all creation
to justifiably compare,
your belly hung
smooth and shimmery sleek,
caressed by the wind
your propulsion made
before disappearing
in a rain cloud.

For Ruth, who taught me the meaning of facetious...