A poem for my Pictures and Poetry Challenge (that has already changed its name…)
Added to the dverse open link night.
The dew lies glistening on the grass,
And through the trees the white stone gleaming,
Through the trees let morning pass
In gold and silver half light streaming,
While on the hill the bones lie dreaming.
Dead on the ridge that’s grown again
With green and forest where walkers go,
Dead in the mud and bitter cold rain,
Tangled in wire and buried in snow,
We built them all crosses, their ghosts below.
They’re quiet the places ringed in stone,
And hid behind hedges where blackbird sings,
They’re quiet the men who lie all alone,
In their rank upon rank. No comfort brings
The spring, flown like geese on their northbound wings.