Bi-wing planes hang like kites
High above sleepy open fields.
Gaily colored, cloud-like, hovering,
Always close to the rural airfield.
Not so the sleek single-winged planes.
Coming, going, to and from unseen places
Flying quickly over the sprawling streets,
Higher and higher, neck-stretching high.
Blue jets scream and streak
Low, past the high school smokestack.
Distant dark dots, they dance above the horizon,
Then explode overhead and are gone.