Stranded in the Jet Age

Stranded in the Jet Age

The wheels scrape tarmac - shed their outer skins

Another flight from somewhere now complete

Those who wait will ask how I have been

Then hurriedly whisk me out into the street

It's Toronto to beyond then back again

And then again I flash my boarding pass

Arranging euros, dollars, pounds and yen

I see the aircraft - patient - through the glass

In these latter days I travel to and from

Eat rectangle meals, then face towards the sun

My thoughts serene to match the mid-flight hum

There's always more to do, though days seem done

These flights are quite precise across the sky

I stare down at my watch as time flies by.