100 Years



05/08/14: Last night we lit one candle, turned out the electric lights, let the house stand quieted, in memoriam. It was late when war was announced, a summer's late evening in 1914: some other family may have sat, then, freckled by sun, with a dog snoring and their grown boys playing cards, the radio on. Perhaps they made tea, as is still the custom, not knowing what else to be busy with. Keep calm and put the kettle on. Speculate that it should all be over soon, let other worries fuzz a cover: bombs will scare the dog, who will clear the guttering if the boys enlist? If…
06/08/14: Morning rain is musical; percussion on leaf; in the twist of a sluice like faraway bells. 




Comments

Post a comment

Thank you for reading my words- my chance to read yours here:

Popular posts from this blog

Three Letters To Grace

Corona Creep Up

A Rainbow Strikes