Caxtons are mechanical birds with many wings
And some are treasured for their markings--
They cause the eyes to melt
Or the body to shriek without pain
I have never seen one fly, but
Sometimes they perch on the hand
Mist is when the sky is tired of flight
And rests its soft machine on the ground:
Then the world is dim and bookish
Like engravings under tissue paper
Rain is when the earth is television
It has the properites of making colours darker
Model T is a room with the lock inside --
A key is turned to free the world
For movement, so quick there is a film
To watch for anything missed
But time is tied to the wrist
The Model T car did indeed free the world. No more trains for the masses 

A Martian Sends a Postcard Home