Airship Over Suburb

A smooth blue sky with puffed motionless clouds.
  
Standing over the plain of red roofs and bushy trees
The bright coloured shell of the large enamelled sky.
  
Out of the distance pointing, a cut dark shape
That moves this way at leisure, then hesitates and turns:
And its darkness suddenly dies as it turns and shows
A gleaming silver, white against even the whitest cloud.
  
Across the blue and the low small clouds it moves
Level, with a floating cloud-like motion of its own,
Peaceful, sunny and slow, a thing of summer itself,
Above the basking earth, travelling the clouds and the sky.