VAPOUR TRAILS
James L.S. Carter
They chalk along horizons blue and still
Like shooting stars slow-motioned during day
Receding to a moving point they thrill
Moving white lines then plume and blue away...
They do not throb through winter arteries
Nor chase horizons clattering with fumes.
They do not cloud the air with rainy skies
But for their ever-winding fleecy plumes
They seem to point to places far away
Where folk are going for a holiday:
A further to a blue future beyond
A word of neither sight nor sense nor sound
Where Time stands melancholically still
And every morning's sky's a moving thrill
Copyright James L.S. Carter, Edinburgh, February 2016
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