Let marching 
forces come
then when
their backs
are turned 
strike mightier 
no man
can conquer 
what he 
cannot see

Who ever 
imagined that 
the torch
of Liberty
herself would 
be the 
thing that 
would ignite 
the fire 
laying waste 
to America 

It rises east
like a loaf
of long awaited 
freshly baked bread 
its yellow color 
tinged with brown 
around the edges 
of lingering night 
grumpy old crusty
night giving crunch
to the promise 
of the warm 
and springy day 

Sitting in this 
pause this interlude 
this ellipsis before 
the next whatever 
be it whistle 
hello or hug
I too wonder 
as I’m sure 
you do too 
will this end 
how we want 
or will it
not ever end 

Brief love 
is better 
than none 
fresh fruit 
is sweeter
waiting for 
grapes to 
become wine 
denies one
of the 
sweetness picked
quickly from 
the vine