The longest limbs extend and bend over
the road where men have marched off to their deaths.
Their petals fall like snow, the raindrops stir
the leaves. Branches quiver with each cold breath
the wind makes, and I shiver at the thought
of what comes next. Like how this country road,
a quagmire of mud and blood of those who fought,
becomes the best part of this modest ode.
Deborah H. Doolittle’s publications include FLORIBUNDA and BOGBOUND, with some of her recent poems appearing in Ibbetson Street, Iconoclast, Rattle, Slant, and The Stand. An avid bird-watcher, she shares a home with her husband, four housecats, and a backyard full of birds.
Nice tribute to Edward Thomas in your poem–I enjoyed this very much. Thanks!
Nice tribute to Edward Thomas–I really enjoyed this poem! Thank you!