NIGHT FLIGHTS Coming in hugely In a ponderously winged cylinder Through gardens of white flowers Planted in mush, I began groping furiously Toward awareness. (In the in-flight movie, The girl was torn During the unfolding, But when the handsome flier said 'good-bye,' And she approached her husband, she cried And still seemed torn.) It requires precision And yet allows for a certain Uncertainty and thus We went into a holding pattern Over the London Bridge Seeing it distantly again and again. Falling out of a doze My ears cleared to hear The weather was nice and warm, The breeze was fresh and cool, And those who were going on Should stay on board. There was something I must have dreamed About a world of blue fields And time immense enough To walk in And be content. The lanes narrowed into one And we stopped beside a sign Which forbade stopping anytime, Crept on through the moments (The plane was airborne once again Climbing to 30,000 feet.), Crept beside the clipped fresh lawns, Filled with uncertainty; Now that we are home, Can we take in hand The oven door, the backyard broom, The phone book with the names of all our friends? (I dreamt hugely as a giant ape, Hand over hand scaling A precipice, but weight pulled me down Until swinging back I am once again In the dark cave with endless Unknown creatures scurrying aside. They all fear me, for who Would dare my giant hairy hand, But I feel unsettled And look furtively from side to side Testing the ground before I move, Grunting a mild challenge, Reaching out at last to touch The soft arm of my sleeping wife And hurtle the miles back into bed.) My head aches (I've been away again). I sigh (inwardly withdrawing my challenge) Feeling the awkwardness of awakening.