This is the second part of David Malouf's poem Flights; it's called "Spin", and it's the only one which deals with literal flying:

Spin - by David Malouf

A light plane loop-the-looping
over sallow hills, all
its rivets snugged in

and singing; its beaten thin
quicksilver skin beaded
with cloud-lick, its hollow

spaces a brimful hum,
the pressure inside
and out in an equilibrium

true as the laws
of this world allow, a new
nature in the nerve-ends

reached or recovered, in
the shallows of the skull,
and the tilt, as they right themselves,

of road fence, powerline,
horizon, a draft
of hte way things are and were

to be, the long view still
breathtaking as earth
bumped in after the spin.