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
Friday, March 25, 2011
Noted without comment...
.. except to say, I was giggling for an hour. I'm sure it was unintended humor.