R. Boyd Moorman

OLD PLANE

there
in a grey barn dusty and old
sentinel, watching in filtered light
for hands strong 'n bold
dirty old wings
with faded patches
clinging to muslin and bone
quietly waits
elegant alone

yet
somehow i see
a dignity there
lost in the creases
near a hole and a tare
although the oil still drips
and the gas is gone
the prop still turns
to the engine's song

and
when she is given
a loving hand
she comes to life
and moves in the sand
the once broken struts
and tattered traces
are lost in a blur
to the sky she races

once
there in the blue above
she gracefully moves
like a
turtle-dove
a climb so smooth
a dip so light
rudder left
then a turn just right

she
is really quite lovely
when flying along
as colors change
to the engine's song
she brings me back
safe and sound
as once again
she touches down

and
there she sits
on a tie-down line
with engine still warm
and feelin' fine
'cause this ol' girl
was meant to fly
she's quite at home
when in the sky

but
do you know where
her real value lies?
its not in her looks
as she plows the skies
'taint how she sits either
in the foggy, foggy dew
it's simply that
she's reliable and true

for
she's never failed
to bring me back
or forgive my faults
when i lose my tack
she just seems to know
whenever i go wrong
just rolls her wings 'n
keeps flyin' along

sometimes
i wish I was like
that old plane i guess
when lost at night
in a foggy mess
or in the foulest of weather
with broken guage
and a prop
to feather

'cause
no matter what
the demons are
or how many attack
from within and afar
she just holds steady
to a course that's right
and keeps flyin' on
through the darkest night

well
my engine is really worn
and worse still, my damn fabric's torn!
and I've got no landing lights
to lead me home
i jus' tumble and turn
lost and alone
yep, i'm beginning to see
that reliable ol' plane sure ain't me!

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