The Day David Attenborough Died
The news appeared online mid-morning,
catalyst for change, and like fire or flood
it spread across the office. We sat
dazed at our desks, searching
for words or ways of understanding.
After an hour or more of silence
we left our workstations,
making sure to turn off all the lights.
Days later I heard that in almost every school
across the land classrooms emptied
when teachers broke the news,
and the kids held hands in circles rippling with tears.
Factories halted production; mushrooms
and strawberries were left to go round
and round on belts, plastic punnets stood empty.
And pilots quit their cockpits, refused to fly again;
that was the start of the Heathrow Nature Reserve.
By noon all cars had been abandoned,
most have been left to rust
where they stood; strange totems from the past.
And as I walked the six miles home
I passed people who needed to talk
or share their thoughts; some just needed a hug.
And on that night, it’s said,
fireflies across the globe turned out their lights,
while howler monkeys howled for hours
and in the Congo gorillas sat and reminisced.
That day has turned into a decade.
We still dream of his voice
echoing across the blue planet.
david-attenborough-
Neil Elder Poetry 