On the side of a hill in the deep forest green, tracing a sparrow on snow-crested ground, blankets and bedclothes the child of the mountain sleeps unaware of the clarion call. On the side of a hill, a sprinkling of leaves washes the grave with silvery tears, a soldier cleans and polishes a gun. War bellows, blazing in scarlet battalions, generals order their soldiers to kill and to fight for a cause they've long ago forgotten
Sunday, December 23, 2007
(this is one of those "what you wake up with" pieces)
It's the fear he lives with, the horror he expects to find.