Thursday, March 27, 2008
For a Friend
A Poem for a "Precious Friend, Hid in Death's Dateless Night." (W.S.)
22 Years On
This spring the azaleas are pink cotton
The red-tips are making a come-back
The feral cat keeps squirrels choking
In branches of dangling oak pollen.
Your bones lie still in the dirt of Tulsa
You would love this new Sarah Brightman
Song, I muse. How would we be
Now that New Age is old?
Don't stop thinking about tomorrow
Has become Live one day at a time.
War we thought gone thirty-four years ago
Is again: Mindless mayhem. Blood for oil.
Monarch butterflies flit just as ever
And the springtime birds are singing.