Folks,

It has been some time now since even the erudite and learned Dux has even alluded to a poem much less quoted poetry. He hasn't even posted a bawdy Limerick in a very long spell. So I thought that it might benefit us all to add a bit of culture to these otherwise somewhat Philistine goings on. I'm afraid however that even the most beautifully composed poetry can not make up for my own literary short comings. Bear with us as we plod along in search of a bit of culture.

Through The Boundless Sky
By JRT
HWH Continued WOW
Page 557
7.23.08

There was so much rain on the windscreen that JRT wondered if he was IN the Channel and not over it. It was getting terribly bumpy too and there were flashes of lightning that blinded him and made the instruments jump about. This is too much he thought to himself and so, watching the instruments carefully, he poured on more power to see if he could rise above the storm. The altimeter dial passed 1 and then 2 thousand feet before he popped out between two layers of cloud.

Should he climb higher? He reckoned he was passing over those famous chalk cliffs by now. Should he descend to try to get his bearings? Then he saw some white specks against the darker lower layer of cloud. Several gulls were rising into the marginally calmer air. Somehow seeing them calmed his nerves. What was that poem by Bryant? He was trying to remember.

That was the precise instant that the Spit's mighty engine began running rough again, coughed, popped and then quit... JRT's heart was in his throat and the lines from "To a Waterfowl” by William Cullen Bryant were on his lips as he feverishly began his emergency procedures.

"He, who, from zone to zone, Guides through the boundless sky thy certain flight, In the long way that I must tread alone, Will lead my steps aright."

Down he went. Down into the belly of the storm. He was being tossed about now by the powerful updrafts then sent crashing down again and shaken mercilessly. The thunder and the lightning reached a terrifying crescendo and just as his whole miserable life including a brief intermission had just about passed across his mind, suddenly the mighty storm spewed him right out into brilliant sunshine.

He was still piloting a glider of course...but a damn good one at that and just over to the left he could see there was an emergency field. He was shaken, he had a nose bleed and a slight flesh wound from his earlier combat that day but he was going to be OK.