Poetry: Cold Bold

Twenty degrees Farenheit outside.
My fingers feel cold and painful.
I stare at my cockpit wondering
if my plane will start in this temp.

I wonder, too, if I should fly today

with the winds rushing from the north
at twenty-five knots gusting to thirty.
Is my decision to fly today dumb?

And how dumb? A saying starts

rattling in my head, There are bold
pilots and there are old pilots;
but there are no old bold pilots.

I blow warm air on my fingers,

my mind on the conditions of flight,
clear from here to the other side
of the skies but cold and windy.

Just another nice day for a pilot.

Sunny, no ice, no storms,
no lightning – is it a nice day
to fly with an old pilot, Beatrice?

I spot a car driving past my wing,

its occupant – a pilot, stares at me,
wondering, I’m sure, Why is she
flying in this temp, this wind?

Perhaps, I ponder, he’ll drive back

to tell me, Don’t go fly in this stuff!
The car makes a 180-degree turn,
stops by my wing. Its window

rolls down a little bit, revealing

a pilot’s eyes. Are you just sitting
in your airplane or are you gonna fly?
I was disappointed that he did not

tell me to go home, stay warm.

I opened my window and said,
I am actually going to fly, sounding
a bit bold to myself, a bit bold –

Really, I yearn for respect, I yearn
for other pilots to say of me, Damn she’s
a good pilot – and old, too, very old.
Then, he said, I’ll close your fuel door for you.

I wave from my cockpit, blushing –

look at my instruments as if
for the first time – and it is
the first time I will fly so cold, so bold.

Clear the prop – I say to no one.

They are all inside their offices
and homes warm, safe, sipping coffee
while I turn the key to start my plane

and manage my RPMs. My cellphone

lights up with a text from Beatrice.
Are we still gonna fly? she says from
her airport, fifty cold, windy miles away –

Yes, I reply, wondering about myself

being so bold this morning (so bold!)
hoping she will say, Let’s be old —
it’s too cold and too windy today –

She asks, Are you okay with these winds?

Why, yes, I say, surprised that I am
so bold yet still hoping she’ll say, Well,
I’m not. So don’t take off, don’t fly today.

It’s the computer in my plane –

it won’t come on, I say with glee.
The computer malfunction will
keep me on the ground – Give it

a few minutes, she says, it takes

a while in this temp to come on.
Monitors in my cockpit power up.
She hasn’t said to me, hey, let’s

not fly in this cold and this wind.

My cellphone lights up. Here it is,
I say to myself. She’ll tell me to stay.
Do you have a heater in your plane?
                                              - E B Hawley