Thursday, February 20, 2014

Notes from a lanky old man

Hear, O' Wind, the distant hammer
ricocheting from hill to hill
its agony
silenced by a rising fog

Hear, dear brother, the autumn song
the frail voice that soothes
a dusty meadow: man had started fire
playing with flint-stones

Brothers have lost flesh & bones
in war
the lonely hammer beats overhead:
Is this the Order, is this the Law,

Where have all the flowers gone?

[ In memory of Pete Seeger ]

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