How fast and furious is the wind that
blows down through the valley glen
Where bushes linger by a moonlit pond
Where bass with open mouths swim by and
Farm boys too small to ride a bike sit on
the water's edge with bamboo fishing poles
And as the darkest night turns into day
birds leave their nests and into the wind they fly
Past the boy and his fishing pole
Past the pond no longer lit by the moon
Past the unaware large mouth bass nearby
And into the windy sky they fly
Upwards and upwards they soar
As if they had been shot from a catapult
That may have laid siege to a city during the war
But there is no war in this valley glen
Since the civilian war of the 1860's when
Brother fought brother and sisters did the healing
And yet, we all still grieve for our losses
As if nature had played a silly trick on us
Leaving us all with no more reason to hate.
November 2, 2020
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