by James Doyle
marches in uniform down the traffic stripe
at the center of the street, counts timeto the unseen web that has rearrangedthe air around him, his left handstiff as a leather strap along his side,the other saluting right through the decadesas if they weren't there, as if everyone under ninety
were pervasive fog the morning would dispel
in its own good time, as if the high school band
all flapping thighs and cuffs behind him
were as ghostly as the tumbleweed on every road
dead-ended in the present, all the ancient infantry
shoulder right, through a skein of bone, presenting arms
across the drift, nothing but empty graves now
to round off another century,
the sweet honey of the old cadence, the streets
going by at attention, the banners glistening with dew,
the wives and children blowing kisses.
Remembering Living Veterans
We wave to hometown heroes going
past us on streets by
the park. We stand at
filled with pride as the
veterans hold banners
of red, white, and blue.Their glistening
smiles shine with
hope full of morning dew.
Using the highlighted line in the above poem as a strike line, I created a golden shovel poem honoring living veterans of WWII, in particular, the one remaining living veteran in my family, my Uncle John Mosca. As a very young man at the beginning of WWII, he enlisted in the Marine Corp. He returned home after the war, proud of his achievement but keeping stories of his duty as a private matter. Today, I pause to honor his service to America with hopes that he will hear my phone call wishing him a Happy Veterans Day.
"The willingness of America's veterans to sacrifice for our country has earned them our lasting gratitude." - Jeff Miller
a silent flag
waving on a dim fall day
hope for America
November is #GratitudeMonth.
Be grateful for those who fought for our country and freedom.
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