September 23rd,
Dawn has arrived
No one has told the crickets,
Their cadence echoes through the fog like distant cannons.
Soft mist brushes
My cheeks and covers
My hands.Autumns colors hiding
Fog rolls like soft silk
Across the weed covered
Ground, around the boulders,
And through the spokes Of cannon wheels.
I feel the hills
I cannot see.
Their arms surround the space
That saved our country.
Those hills hold
The souls of brothersFathers, and sons
Sacrificing themselves in early July
So long ago,
That today I may stand
Free, thankful,
American.
1 comment:
Loved both poems. I would love to hear you read this with background music. :)
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