A cut open sky

Sailing serenely on the Safire soaked sea.
Whilst in another world a benign bull sits under his cork tree.
Back to the barge and a pale gaze set upon shimmering haze.
When all of a sudden willowy white weavings smear the sky as if it were ablaze.

Perhaps it was a Prussian poet of an azure airy aviary? Suppose it were a skywriter?
Whatever the which, this smoke was getting whiter.
The writer was gone before the ground could grab him.
What could have happened to him something, pleasant, promising, Gruesome, grim?

A stitch in time and an unsung crime for those who forget the rhyme.
This tear in space, like a wound left open silently saying all in due time.

A terrible thought thunders through two travelers.

The fairytale Ferdinand flicks his tail at a fly that is this thought.
While a scarred sailor solemnly surrenders to the scene as it were sought
Under the tree of cork Ferdinand frees a tear for a sailor that slipped by him in a dream
And the dearly departed sailor sets sail down an even older stream.