• The Westbound Mail

A drizzling rain was falling
A nearby clock tolled eight
They watched the sky with an eager eye
The westbound mail was late.

The rain beat down on the hangar roof
The station chief stood by
The thrumming tone of a motor's drone
Resounded from the murky sky.



















The beacon sent it's welcome beam
To the rider of the night
He brought her down on the soggy ground
And up to the glaring lights.

They swap the mail and shout "Okay!"
Then she roars and lifts her tail
She's up again in the snow and rain
On, with the westbound mail.

The dim, blurred lights of a city
Loom in the murk below
Their work is gone, but the mail flies on,
And on through the blinding snow.

Rain is freezing on her wings
She seems to feel the weight
It'll soon be dawn, she staggers on
Hoping she won't be late.

Crystals stick on the windshield
Forming a silver veil
Icy struts and a man with guts
And sacks of westbound mail.

Over the peak of a mountain
Clear of the treacherous rim
Way up there in the cold night air
Just God, the mail and him.

His thoughts turn back to a summer night
And a girl, not long ago
She shook her head and firmly said
"As long as your flying, it's no!"

He tried to quit this flying job
And stick to a ground bound trail
But the wish came back for the canvas sack
And the feel of the westbound mail

The wind kept whispering secrets
About his life's travail
So back he went to the big blue tent
Flying the westbound mail.

The sleet and snow were far behind
Before the night was gone
Out of the rain the gray dawn came
And found him flying on.

He tilted her stick and banked her in
She responded to the gun
Then muted her wrath o'r the cinder path
At the end of a perfect run.

Three points touched and she taxied in
Up to the hangar rail
He stretched 'n grinned as they checked him in
"ON TIME," with the westbound mail.

--Anoynymous