Amelia Redux 1937-2012: 
A Pilot's Log

Fortaleza, Brazil

I spring up cantilevered wing,
Get aloft with light fuel load
Observe ruffled dunes,
--Hills that take flight--
Launched by eolian riffs
Wayfaring sands flow 
From elbow of Natal;
Out-crop facing Atlas Sea
In rain squall I drop to Parnamiro Airport
Water soaked grease monkeys scoot
My chariot to shelter 

Natal, Brazil

2:00 a.m.,
Bossy showers mask moon
I tramp secluded runway with flashlight,
My lamp bounces orbicular splashes
Onto grassy field,
Detects man in Panama hat, overcoat, scarlet cravat,
--Le Petite Santos--
Brazilian aviator, air-ship inventor,
Provocateur
Alberto gives me a gyroscope,
Tiny like a fob on a chain,
(Succor for flying blind)
Says, "Earth is round like an eye,
Because it is the seen and the seer." 

South Atlantic

Electra accelerates thru wire grass,
Landing-lights illumine
Right-of-way
Ebony airspace blindfolds windows,
Gyroscope keeps plane level,
--Aligns spin axis, heart septum, earth crux--
Twin-motors hum orbits
Pre-ordained,
Instrument board fixates east,
Glows cerise
Sky-miles rouse scenes
Of solos past:
In '32, flew Atlantic
--Counter sun's advance--
Plied a streak swirled by fog
My altimeter failed--dizzy-dial-spun--
I mixed fuel fat & lean
To coddle way
'Tween icy-ceiling & saline-soak
Parasol-plane--slush heavy--
Spiraled nose down 3000 feet,
(Barograph scribed the plumb decline)
I righted craft in time to glimpse
Phosphorescent waves
Roughed by northwest winds
On Pacific flight of '35,
Earth curvature
Slid night beneath me:
I was above heaven looking down
To countless light-year points
My flying machine ferried my spirit
With shamanistic poise
--I freely bridged worlds--

Laura Stickney

photo from Wikimedia