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…