852 feet

Eyes on the landing
eyes on the hall
eyes from the dark side
my eye’s on the ball.

Rats on the sinker
the ship’s clinker built
deep in the mire
downed in the silt.

I flew with Wilbur
Orville stayed behind
Kitty Hawk didn’t talk, she sang,
and someone rang the president.

We built the future on wooden spars
aeroplanes and racing cars

no one said it was wrong.

© 2016, John Smallshaw.