The airships cling momentarily to the past

Moving and hovering with undue delay

Cursing and spitting

Upon anyone who dares

To raise an objection

As I sit and watch these leviathans of the air

Greying black and then to white

Heavy with their own purpose

Blocking and blacking the rays

From that which I sometimes crave

Beyond and above

The blue and the white

These great ships of the day and the night

Sometimes moored on to mountain tops

In holy collusion

Hiding all they can in mischievous deceit

Delighting in the downfall

Of those who might try to penetrate

Those smoking mists of Avalon

 

Always ever changing

Shifting gilded patterns

Ready to fly at a moment’s notice

Through and beyond

In formations of migrating moths

Soft untouchable

One sneeze and they are gone

Drifting on upward drafts

Blinding all those above, before and beyond

Arching aching cascades released in platoons

To wash the land

Until there is no more

And all of time seems to cease

Before the airships move on

In no particular hurry