Night plane

The cities and towns lace out
Cobwebby ogling the sky
Against the raped black back
Of the land.
The act of moving is rich and sad.

The land-woman, lolling, humps
Round her negro shoulders
The shawl of merino mist
And snuggles her hip hills all cuddly.
Dark Earth-Mother shawl me. shape me
Womb me against you.
Sad and bold I am over moving land
Sad and frightened and bold
In a big little move.

Air-pressured all silver-figetty sad
Jet-propped, I am all unpropped;
Seatbelted, yet dirtless.
Oh Earth-Home take me, root me
And, hug-warm, make me grow
And, rooted, let me fly.