fading moon to the west
smudge of orange in the east
the smell of wood smoke
in a slack of cool gray wind
roosters in full pronouncement
as a few barned cows bump their stalls
it’s a March morning in Ukraine
the farmer’s kitchen window glows
as one shadow then another
cross the light
missiles have never hit here
crops and barns and pastures
have been spared
what cities have not
but what would milk cows know of war?
nightly they’ve been dreaming
of spring and its emerald meadows
annoyed by booms that rumble
them out of their chewing dreams
to watch daylight flash
in the middle of the night
Comments