It's that 9/11 weather this morning
The pilots call it Severe clear
I know it's crass to bring it up
Maybe it's the time of year
Pretty close to a temporal antipode
Of that Day that brought such fear

The  contrails so bright and straight
Against the brunch aquamarine
Like determined daytime meteors
Their surety seems obscene

In no mood for delay
They push past the cold thin air
To be fast and true and punctual
Remains their only care

And then the Sky Beluga
As if to a call responded
That bulbous headed carrier plane
The Airbus A300
Swims low and slowly overhead
It almost looks in pain
To deliver parts to the airbase
So we can start again.