THE DC-3
A Poem by Robert J. Firth, Georgia 1994
Presented to Basler Aviation

At the edge of the field where the grass grew deep, she waited. Through the many seasons, ignoring the entropic persuasion of the land, she gazed aloft. Crow-picked and forgotten, her spirit soared still, As though miles of wires and years of labor, use and genius had imbrued her with life and a purpose. Through the clear winter nights, under blankets of snow, she dreamed of the skies, seeing her exhausts like blue comets amid the dark spaces and cold stars. During dusty summer days, dozing in the long grass, Shading smaller life with her graceful wings, her jealous soul acknowledged the flitting and coughing of lesser but still loved sisters. Lingering on her countless triumphs, imperceptibly trembling, in the wake of memories long passed, she sighed desperately for the touch of her creators. Which of us knows the true nature of such thoughts? Who can say that two dreams might not become entwined. The dusty flatbed truck piled with props, tires, and parts skidded to a stop just under her nose. Doors and hatches were flung open and the ghosts of passengers and long retired crews floated through the aisle, exiting into the morning rays. Their presence felt the same as on all of her kind, the smell of metal, fabric, fuel and fear, permeating every crevice - never entirely to be exercised. After several days her engines fired, sputtering, catching, holding, purring and roaring in response to oiled throttles. Flashing props disappearing with speed, flattening the greedy grass and beating the field with measured blasts. No cable was left unchecked, no single part left worn. Thorough were her Gods. On new tires she moved out from her grave, rolling past generations of field life that had no memory of her coming. Past her tiny sisters, she pivoted toward her destiny, complying sweetly and completely to every subtle command, hers was the grace and perfection of a thoroughbred. Brakes released, she raced the wind, feeling her great weight lifted by compression, her thousands of spinning parts revelling in anticipation, she floated into her world, rocking her wings with joy! Laughing, smiling and crying with every rivet of her being, she climbed, unchained, into the blue . . .