Have you ever taken notice,
just how blue that winter sky seems?
Fresher than spearmint
and clearer than ice
Lazily the challenged sun
bobs across this treacly path.
Straining but not stretching,
as it saves its warmth
for far off days
I see this sky!
It tilts my neck,
to take in views of jet-fuelled furrows,
strafing home from south to north,
before the dogleg for New York..
Here beneath the flight path
of the scattered 259
whose atoms won’t relent their grip
and bring us back to our senseless world.
I watch the planes fly overhead
as they look down on me.
Between us lay the passengers
of Pan Am 103.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Good descriptive poem I can see the planes, 'strafing home from north to south'