Through Stained-Glass Poem by Robert Rorabeck

They keep their flights- and enamored to their shoulders,
The airplanes seer,
Pretending they are goddesses descending into an orchard-
But they only know one or two words,
And the world gets brighter as they climb down
Until the waves of the newly blessed ocean calm down
And can be petted by tourists-
So they understand that the rest of the world is round
And made to be beautiful,
And their hearts beat like gossiping hummingbirds
Through stained-glass.