not affected
by the tragedy of war,
nor by fear,nor by evil,
the honey bee collects her honey
and the mockingbird sings her song.
not the rumble of thunder,
nor the sound of gunfire,
nor the sound of a storm,
but the sound of fireworks
fills this July night sky.
she's 3000 years old,
and i am fascinated
by her eyelashes,
how beautiful,
how delicate.
suddenly.
the flame up of a match,
my youth
has come
and gone.
1
train crossing.
signals flashing,
wheels clanging on rails,
boxcars swaying side to side,
followed by the end car,
2
its red strobe light flashing,
disappears into the darkness,
the spirit
of my father
rides into the night.
