Nothing but a gentle hum
confirms our motion
And the clouds that pass beaneath
Full and fluffy in their opacity
Seduce me with the belief
That they will hold me if I fall
And yet the wings stay still
While the ground moves by below
The winding rivers
The pointing mountains
Pure and spotless in their coat of freshest snow
And little boxes, so many boxes,
All too small to see
And the screen in front that flickers and updates
To reassure with silent confirmation
That as each minute passes with the clouds
The distance bewtween us lessens
But still there is no motion in the wings
of this giant silver bird
The bird that flies me home to you
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