NIGHT PATROL
Ten thousand horses, checked, held back,
Loosed, skyward with one great whipcrack.
Fiery tails wave mockingly behind,
Our bonds with mother earth unwind.
Climbing, climbing, faster, higher,
On stampeding hooves of fire.
Then high o'er cotton candy plains,
We slow and slacken off the reins.
Above the endless fields of white,
Our destinations out of sight.
Then earths bright mantle fades away,
As darkness ends another day.
For miles we fly, but see no sign,
Of nought that's evil or benign.
Our radar shows, no tell tale blip,
To cause us trouble on this trip.
So as our journey nears its end,
Our horses slacken, we descend.
Back through those cotton candy clouds,
Wrapped round about like funeral shrouds.
To terra firma, we return,
White knuckle ride, stomachs churn.
Then up ahead a swathe of light,
The runway beckons through the night.
Tyres squeal, a tortured sound,
As finally we touch the ground.
The hanger doors, wide open roll,
A peaceful end to night patrol.
Ian (Beemerboy)
