Snarge

Will you be able to tell
Each other by your feathers
You’ve been saving forever

For occasions such as this,
To know which versions of you
Flew straight into the engines

Of the machines invented
By you to approximate
What you could already do

But so much faster, higher,
More powerfully? The plane
On which those minds will function

That are only beginning
To lift their heavy metal
Into the air for short hops

Now, short flights almost their own,
Ungainly but soon faster
And faster, by instruments,

Less and less the way you fly,
Until they suck in data
To create clouds of their own--

Yeh, it seems maybe they have
Started contrails already.
Will you be able to tell

Even what they are, flying
Into the wind they’re making,
Straight into the maw of mind?