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Memorial Poem


cynthjohnson
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ODE TO THE HERCULES AVIATOR

by Bob Woods

Do not stand at my Tomb and weep for me

I am not there for I do not sleep you see

I am the thousands of Hercs that fly

I am the roar of the wind on high

I am the rush of a Herc in powered flight

I am the beacons that shine in the night

I am the odor of jet fuel and the starter whine

I am the tire squeal on a landing, that was mine

I am the stars that shine at night

I am the sun you see at first light

I am the jeweled glints on rime covered wings

Think of me kindly for I am all these things

At my graveside you should not have cried

For so long as Hercs fly, I have not died.

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