A Tourist Of The Earth
by William Phillips, 1980 (billphil@ix.netcom.com)

There are few who've known the things I've seen
While dancing the skies enacting my dream.
Above the Earth with grace and poise,
A ballet of flight with my flying toys.

Often in a glance I've perceived the wing
As a naked sculpture, a most beautiful thing.
Sliding through air with simplistic splendor,
An artistic grace with feminine gender.

When high above the Earth aloft all alone,
I think of the wing evolving from stone.
From earth, to metal, to pure design,
Powerful in shape, dynamic in line.

At peace with it, along for the ride,
Is my soul and life, with that wing by my side.
Through clouds and rainbows, over all sorts of
turf,
At home in the sky,
"I'm A TOURIST OF THE EARTH".

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