John Milton Goes Flying


The earth sped away. Villages and steeples
Grew “insignificant”—the flight instructor’s
Routine dismissal sieved through a thin smile.
His nodding student squinted like a jeweler,
Shook his bewigged head in baffled wonderment.
The sun dazzled, the motor stuttered
Some potent yet arcane Greek phrase.

So prayer at last took metal form—
The sort of soaring one would expect of man
Who when faced with heaven and light,
The golden sheen of unclouded grace,
Puttered, picked up an appropriate tool,
Said something uplifting but trite.