My pome as requested by paleale. I make 0 apologies for the fact that it's crap

------------ " Ode To The Aircaft in the morning " -----------

 The cold, swirling mist

the dark before morn'

cloaked in my parker, I approach them 

They stand aloof and uncaring, awaiting the day.

My Great Metallic Majesties

I stand before them

their faces, indifferent to me seek the light over the hill.

The mist is all about us, we are engulfed in it.

Soon my Majesties, your pilots will come,

Their faces are not indifferent to me 

they are expectant of the light

when they will enjoy their nature, in flight.

Soon my Metalic Majesties,

your day will begin

you will follow my instructions 

and we will make your engines sing.

I will fill you with food and people and fuel

but for now, in this moment

in the swirling mist

there is only me and you.

This pome reflects my personal attachment to the aircraft I worked with in my previous life as a 'tarmac monkey'. I used to love the solitude of being on the tarmac really early in the morning (0430-0500), getting the planes ready to start up and planning the schedule and the pattern for getting them all airborne for the days' work.

It was the best part of the job being on the black-top, all alone in the thick fog of freezing winter mornings with all those beautiful planes. I miss that soooo much.

Anyhow, that's my effort for poetry Tuesday.