Silver Wings Poem by John I Nash

On silver wings I take flight this night, what a sight as we take to the air. Climbing, higher ever higher, objects on the ground shrinking behind the engines roar, nothing to ignore.
The sky grows lighter as we go higher, banking to the right and then to the left, into the clouds, into the night then all is bright as we clear the dark clouds that look like waves upon an angry sea.
Violent shaking, being thrown about, not a pleasant sight, the silver wings hold tight and give me comfort this night of flight.