Swooping softly to the ground

Touching blackness, taut and tight on tarmac

Crowds cheering for imminent freedom

 

She sits silently watching, waiting

As noisy clamour disturbs her private place

Yearning for touch of pillowed clouds

 

Her thirst slaked, pulses heating

Her engines throb and moan with pleasure

Brakes released she pushes forward

 

She’s airborne now, senses reeling

Sated, satisfied, silver streak across the sky

Purring with pleasure, complete.