I
Breakfast news of the surprise attack
startles me into nightmare wakefulness.
In the woods we are the only sounds, filling
the air with our steps. With our talk of autumn, family.
A red-tailed hawk stares at us as we stare at it.
I’ve heard hawks carry messages, but I discern nothing.
Stopping for lunch we sit on boulders, share bags of GORP.
Chat about sunscreen, ill-fitting boots. Problems we can solve.
II
My sore legs rest on my couch. Hissing heat consoles.
I listen to reports of kibbutz homes set afire.
Residents kidnapped tortured killed. Taken
five miles to Gaza where, I know, neighborhoods
will be razed. Vestiges of green and growth annihilated.
No terrible beauty is born. Anywhere.
It is all terrible death.
