Afghanistan

a distant land of rock and sky
of snow and ice and sun-baked earth
a place unknown before the strike
a place beyond the reach of time

a landscape carved by brutal force
that raised a stoic ruthless tribe
still wary of the outside world
and wed to laws that we decry

a place to hide from civil men
a place to stoke the fire of hate
invaded by an allied force
their legions rise to welcome fate

but can our soldiers offer hope
for what the modern world upholds
or is our war to free this land
a futile cause of death and pain

The Sycamore

it rises high above a stream
near the edge of woods and field
there it stands through wind and rain
through heat and snow and winter chill

from just a seed this tower grew
though many threats have come its way
from browsing deer to insect hordes
the tree endured beyond our days

and throughout life its gifts abound
from summer shade to winter den
its leaves refresh the air we breath
its branches reach to usher in

by spring the songbirds flit about
and flickers drum its hollow wood
in fall the nuthatch circles round
as raptors scout the fields below

in winter's dark the white wood gleams
and seed filled globes adorn its crown
through ice and snow the seeds await
their chance for glory in the sun

Midwest Summer

it comes in waves
by early june
the heavy air
oppressive noon

thunder rolls
a short reprieve
but sun returns
the rain now steam

mowers hum
but birds retreat
the songs of spring
suppressed by heat

as summer wanes
the greens now brown
gold and purples
cloak the ground

when fiddlers sing
and cicadas call
we yearn to feel
the tide of fall

Memorial Day

parades and cookouts
warm sunny skies
swim clubs open
as summer arrives

air shows thrill
speeches and prayers
soldiers march
past cheering crowds

beneath the fields
young bodies rot
their courage praised
their lives denied

and through the years
the cycle runs
more glorious days
more youth in graves

Trail Athletes

many hikers
young and old
pound the trail
to reach a goal

perhaps a summit
yet unscaled
or record time
around the loop

along the way
their senses keen
eyes ahead
muscles taut

most decline
the pleasing views
no explorations
slow their pace

aerobic stress
is what they seek
the woods and fields
a changing blur

as they pass
absorbed in pain
we amblers yield
and mourn their loss