when a Canberra fell from the sky.

A circle of silent boys,
stunned by enormity,
enclosed the huge pit in the mire.
We moved, slow as grazing deer, over the shambles,
flicked muck over torn bits of people.

He moved beyond me,
lost in echoes of the yard
pealing with the protests of a roped sow;
poked with a broken spar a thigh bled pale as pork.
It rocked and sucked in the mud, slid to his persuasions.

He turned his mask of quiet smile and rosy cheeks
and blaze of pale blue eyes upon me
as I stumbled down the bleak perspectives of his mind;
a land of no horizons.
-Arthur

Arthur, a plane right?  You've written about this before if I'm correct.

The last line says all we may need to know about him to know him.  I see 
someone slightly retarded, maybe downs if not for the engine work.

You could drop some articles and connectors, but a good read all around.

Thanks.

Gary


Writer's Hood, the best poetry on the web,  at http://www.writershood.com/ 
Poets for Peace.... ¡Poemas sí, balas no!