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              Wright Brothers Poem  |  
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 Kittyhawk, December 1903 
 A cup of carefully filtered gasoline drove
             their wings against the flat wind  that
             made the Outer Banks a wreckers' coast.   Its
             fumes dispersed across the dunes before
             the telegraph could report the flight to
             a curiously un-hearing world.   They'd
             still fully to master the air, –
             just revealed the transparent fringe storm-birds
             flying ahead of a tempest.   The
             brothers struck camp for Christmas back
             in Dayton Ohio, with the Bishop the
             sister and, at last, their grail.   Full
             conquest took a few more years chasing
             the invisible around Huffman Prairie learning
             to control their Flyer.   Then
             patent fights, manufacturing rights refinement,
             disclosure, military sales. The tempest wrote long lines across the sky. 
 Courtesy of Noel Whittall October 2002 
 
 
 
 
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