The County Airport

Photo by Jeremy Wermeille on Unsplash

Across the sky the searchlight spins,
Around, around, all night around;
It beckons all small, wandering craft
That climb the clouds on paths not found
Below them, calls them nightly in
Where weary wheels may greet the ground
And rest awhile; and fore and aft
The searchlight seeks those earthward bound
For rest: the tiny flecks that flash
In green and red, the humming sound,
The quivering wings that dance on air
Till night’s lights call them, waiting down
Upon the sleeping earth. Awash
In just the distant lights, upon a mound
Of silent hill I watch them there;
All night the echoing lights resound.