The plane comes in low above us
Surely something so big cannot fly
Like a swan treading water
Impossible, but then away.
The horses in the field below
Don't even raise their weary heads
As all that metal rends the air
And bends the barley in its wake.
And yet to be inside those roaring hulks
I find that fear gives that wonder pause
My eyes tight closed and fingers gripped
Until we're high and flat and smooth
And all my senses fool my brain
To believing that I'm on a train.
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