Tight

I  always know  there is a storm coming

when the jets buzz East to West

the landing gear screams down over Grizzly Peak

then in the next breath with

red eyes flashing  the dragon’s wings

scrape my chimney.

How these monsters in the night

go so low, so slow and

still make it to SFO or OAK

I do not know?

I am warm and safe the room is tight.

Soon there will be rain on the roof

in the middle of the night.

Carol Carlisle

Margo Roby’s Tuesday Tryouts  suggested we tell an emotional truth from our memory using sensory detail.  You should check out her blog for poetry prompt and much much more!

7 thoughts

  1. Our planes had two approaches: skimming the water of the harbour, or going straight down the middle of a street, so low we could look into windows and see what people were doing. Like yours, it depended on the weather. Great memory. I hear the emotion.

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  2. Wow airplane stories certainly do evoke a lot of great memories. Certainly better then “stuck on runway” horror stories. I can just imagine sitting on my porch waiting to catch the next touch down movie.

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