Growing up on an overseas navy base,
I got used to seeing things like fighter jets
and men (mostly men) in uniform,
and great gray ships bristling with missiles,
floating bombs wrapped in asbestos
blankets, and then the submarines, silent
sharks run by strange bearded men.
During the cold war this was comforting,
amid all that monochrome uncertainty,
but when I see grey fighter planes tear
so unfamiliar now across gray sky
beyond circling swallows and vultures,
lost in all that grey, I begin to wonder
if this is why the Queen paints her ships blue.
James Brush is a teacher and writer who lives in Austin, TX. He tries to get outside as much as possible.
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