Morning lights

As we headed east, above our heads the sequential lights went out,
One, by one, by one, until every one,
Was dark.

The dawn’s gloom rose, slowly, as our eyes unfurled from their beds,
To behold a sight, so rare, so bright,
So stark.

A perfect screen of iridescence, a diamond-cut blazing foil against which,
Two dimensional man-made silhouettes stood,
So proud.

Skeletal pylons sighed as graceful turbine wings in vacuums spun,
Under higher, loft rising ploughed mounds,
Of cloud.

Vapour trails with scalpel ease, in satin fire cut ember scars,
Then disappeared, to hide in shame, for fear, of upstaging,
The star.

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