A white symphony for the ears' Sense of sleep. Flying is for the hearing.
Smell sniffs for itself.
Waking to the screech of tires on concrete, Airbreaks roaring their Demand for reversal. The high pitched hissing says goodbye With a step onto the concourse. Then a swoosh-sounding Rush of air sends him flying Instinctively backwards. He alights again only to have His dinner interrupted again. A few more tries convinces him Of the futility.