Blips on a radar screen the main indication
stacked in a long line waiting to land.
Thousands of tons of planes in the air poised
families and friends waiting excitedly below
Passengers putting their full trust in the crew
anxious that their arrival time maybe overdue.
Circling for an available airport landing space
guided by computers pilots and ground control.
Only a few know the numbers floating up there
every few seconds many craft take off and land.
How near to a major crash or irreversible mistake
over populated skies the risk we are forced to take.
Are these monsters safe flying in the upper air
those metal tubes so frail we go in up there?
The Foureyed Poet.
