The forsythia are not the flaming yellow
we have come to expect.
No one would be surpirsed
if the tulip tree bloomed
straight to vegetable ash.
The blue jays in my garden
should not wait the ripe September
cherry trees to feed their young.
This war has sucked the spirit
out of life.
I can open my window
up to the knuckle joint.
The last soldier to die
was from Smalltown, Pennsylvania.
His dying was quicker
than saying his town
his last breath
nearly as short as his life.