Category Archives: sunrise

Say Again

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Cotton deck below me now,
As Sun reveals his fiery brow,
And voices seek my inner ear,
Some from afar, and some quite near.

They murmur in a common tongue,
A language really very young.
It’s music to the fervent few,
The rest will just enjoy the view.

As slowly through the gentle wool,
The ground exerts an earthward pull,
Another strip of runway long
Invites us with its siren song.

On rolling feet, our flight complete,
We park among the resting fleet,
Complete our checks and stroll away,
To play our tunes another day.

Stephen Tomkins
26 September 2024
Yokohama

What a Question!

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“Do you prefer flying at night or in the day?” the young Flight Attendant asked.

What a question!

“Definitely day. I prefer to sleep at night,” I promptly replied.

But there are consolations to flying at night. Constellations too.

The ancients must have had better eyes, better imaginations, to be able to form those figures in the sky. I can pick out Orion’s belt but the rest of him is obscure. The Southern Cross is pretty easy. Perhaps we have too many distractions.

What never fails to captivate me, though, is the full moon shining down on a carpet of indigo sea, shedding a trail of pewter below; visions of cities like sparkling gems strewn across an ebony blanket; picking my way through ghostly towers of cumulonimbus, lit from within and without by  daggers of brilliant platinum, piercing the darkness; entering some sort of time warp on moonless nights when we seem to sit motionless with only the changing cockpit displays to suggest any progress; and the gradual retreat of darkness as the sun emerges, boldly victorious, to herald a new day.

So perhaps I do prefer flying at night after all.

Stephen Tomkins
Hong Kong
13 March 2024

In The Moment

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Bathed in the feeble light of dawn,
As night’s pervasive cloak is torn,
I surface from the sleepy deep,
Allow my consciousness to steep.

And in this tranquil, twilight state,
Where even Time seems forced to wait,
Content to know I simply am,
The world outside seems but a sham.

I know this peacefulness can’t last
And nets of everyday soon cast,
But in this moment, I am free
And nothing’s all I need to see.

Stephen Tomkins
Seoul
1 September 2023

Here Comes The Sun

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This morning, the Sun is a little bit shy –

I know he’s not normally that kind of guy.

A thin veil of cloud is disguising his face,

Though it’s clear that he’s there in his usual place.

 

Regaining his mojo as morning moves on,

He’s now as defiant as a Mafia Don –

Glaring unblinkingly right in my face,

The sensible choice is retire with grace.

 

He knows his usurper will rise and, that soon,

His place will be taken by silvery Moon.

So, in what remains of this glorious day,

The Sun will ensure that his face will hold sway.

 

Stephen Tomkins
29 October 18
Singapore

The Purple Hour

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In the brief Purple Hour,
The Sun’s still down there,
Brushing his teeth
And now combing his hair.
The Moon, all the while,
Is yet in quite a tizzy,
Sipping away
At her nightcap, still fizzy.

And while this one night,
Bravely, faces its death,
It seems all creation
Is holding its breath.
Bathed in the softest
Of Royal purple hues,
Sound, too, is hushed
As the Sun seeks his cue.

The air of expectancy
Finally breaks
As a bright, red-faced Sun
The whole landscape remakes.
Embarrassed, he seems,
As if turning up late
At the door of the house
Of his heart’s longed-for date.

Bashfulness fades
And reveals Sun’s full glory,
Closing the book
On the Moon’s bedtime story.
Day after day,
The same story is read,
While most of us
Lie, fast asleep, in our bed.

Stephen Tomkins
16 June 2017
Perth