Heathrow!

Heathrow!

Flight-catcher for the world

Trip-maker, Gate-shaker for planes,

Router of jets, and the globe's baggage handler

Moving, busy, enthralling,

Hub of all Western Orb-travellers:



How many flying souls have passed through your doors!

How many rushing feet thrashed your slickety floors,

after how many flights that o'erflown your Albion shores?



Beneath miles and miles of glist'ning glass,

flashing sunshine, while they pass--

myriad travelers of all class.



Hurry, scurry, flurry, don't show worry.

Slurp tea with breakfast, or take dinner with some curry.

But make your flight! catch that connection--hurry!



From far Mombosa, from far Bombay

from here, from there, every which-a-way

they pass like cattle every day.



Mega-beams of steel overhead--

they span a mega-traveled Heathrow shed

of tubular steel and electronic thread.



"Oh lovely Rita, security maid,

just scan my bags; don't make me late.

Why'd you take my gels?" I said.



While bags roll beneath the scan,

hurrysome travelers fly where they can,

'cross ocean, air, o'er sea and land.



Oh London bridges, what a town!

conducting travelers, up and down

through Heathrow gates the world around,



As planes go up, while flights abound

at Heathrow 'port, they do come down,

but not without a sound. They do astound

me.



Smoke