Down to Earth
S – m – o – o – t – h
Without a bark or chirp of wheels
Without a wobble or puff of blue smoke
Our airbus bird settles down beneath the sea
In its shiphole Schipol
The black-spotted Frisians make no eye contact
Nor miss a munch biting their blades
In manicured meadow.
But wait! Who took the terminal?
Where’s the city?
Our silver cash cow remembers
And her little windmills blow her slowly to the barn
Which religiously preserves
Solid earthbound horizontality
(We in Holland, sir, are most careful with our verticality-
A little goes a long way!)
She finds her stall next to the others
The tubes are hooked up and with
Some relief we are released
Again into the great milking machine –
Right on time.
-Doug Machle is the academic advisor for the Classic Department. He's an expert on Dutch windmills and likes his Jenevers young.