Freightdog’s Flight
Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of instructing,
And plowed the skies on ice-laden wings.
Moonward I’ve climbed and joined the tumbling turbulence
Of lightning split clouds - and done a hundred things
The Feds have not dreamed of - scud run, busted mins,
Flown handheld, homemade approaches. Yawning there,
I’ve chased the impossible schedule, and flung
My ancient craft through convective sigmets.
Up, up the long over-loaded, over-heating climb,
I’ve topped the MVAs with red-line power,
Where bats and even owls fly,
And while with hypothermic, fatigued mind I’ve trod
The complex, congested New York airspace,
Put out my hand, and touched the Nasa form.