Flies

We who by jet can
Travel thusly,
Anachronisms that
Our kind must be,
Bringing such
Technology to bear
On the lightness of
The summer air,
Too seigneurial
To hide
Our mastery of the time
And tide:
Save us, shade us
From the sky
Through which our ancient
Horrors fly,
Send us back to where
We lie in night,
Before we dare the sun
And die from sight.