April 10, 2021 Written like a Keat-ian Ode. The 100th Poem.
I love flying international flights,
After the first meal and the drink service.
People settle down and they dim the lights,
Away from stress, away from all purpose.
And in the dark lit by a seat back screen,
Under the gentle humming of the plane,
I peruse the foreign movies and shows.
Encapsulated like a submarine,
The quiet somehow even more humane,
My vacation begins and time just slows.
Some people hate flying fourteen hours,
Stuck in a seat woken only for snacks.
Without a change and nowhere to shower,
They can’t calm down or begin to relax.
For me it’s part of a meditation,
As I reflect over the wee croissant,
I know we’ll have fun once we have arrived.
Too soon we will reach our destination,
Being with family is all I want,
The flight is just vacation in disguise.
In the dark I have watched many movies
The kids have fallen asleep in my lap
Without sleep I feel a little loopy
Much too late I doze off into a nap
Soon the lights come on, to wake us once more
And so It is time to fill out custom forms
And we make the preparations to land
We collect the books and toys from the floor
We wipe our faces with towels just warmed
So our flight does end, welcome to Japan.