New Blue

                                                                                                                                                                                                             The sky was blue today.

Not blue and white, not cross-hatched

With car scratch lines of B.A and

Virgin vapour but blue, a pure,

Perfect blue, the innocent blue children use

When painting the sea; the blue

You see in just-cleaned pet shop fish tanks,

Or bottles of mouth wash or anti-freeze.

No planes flew overhead today.

Afraid of the ash, all are resting, parked up

Instead of ploughing through the lower

Atmosphere, leaving the sky scrubbed

Clean of all the garish grafitti

We usually draw upon it with

Our Airbus- and Jumbo-sized marker pens.

No engine sounds reached the ground today;

No sunlit was seen glinting

From far away, fuel-filled wings;

Just a few lonely clouds drifted here

And there; sky sheep grazing

In their blue grass field.

No metal soared overhead today,

Just birds, puzzled, confused

By the sudden absence of Man’s machines

From their lofty lands.

Just sky.

Just sky.

Just sky…

© Stuart Atkinson 2010

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