Silver grey clouds in slow motion
float across the horizon as
stairways of light force their way in between;
a once spring blue day is
transformed into an overcast omnipotence;
dark-barked sentinels with multi-shaded
green garments form wind gates
as they sway back and forth,
yielding not their ground
nor their dignity;
the sun’s warmth melts our determination,
the rain steadily beats against our wills,
as we, at last, honor a nameless hero
and
all the forgotten battles
and
all the forgotten wars
can now be glorified
in history books
written by the victors;
The silver grey clouds in
Fleeting columns
Float aimlessly…
The spring day returns…
Dark-barked sentinels remained transfixed;
Who will we replace when
it is our time to go?
May 28, 1984
Memorial Day
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