Flying

Officially my new favorite spring poem. Happy Easter!

In the Memphis Airport  

Above the concourse, from a beam,

A little warbler pours forth song.

Beneath him, hurried humans stream:

Some draw wheeled suitcases along

Or from a beeping belt or purse

Apply a cell phone to an ear;

Some pause at banks of monitors

Where times and gates for flights appear. 

Although by nature flight-endowed,

He seems too gentle to reproach

These souls who soon will climb through cloud

In first class, business class, and coach.

He may feel that it's his mistake

He’s here, but someone ought to bring

A net to catch and help him make

His own connections north to spring. 

He cheeps and trills on, swift and sweet,

Though no one outside hears his strains.

There, telescopic tunnels greet

The cheeks of their arriving planes;

A ground crew welcomes and assists

Luggage that skycaps, treating bags

Like careful ornithologists,

Banded with destination tags.

by Timothy Steele
From Toward the Winter Solstice (Swallow Press/Ohio University Press, 2006, www.ohioswallow.com).  

Courtesy poets.org