Aug 13 2017

Armies of crickets
advance, retreat, and regroup,
but won’t surrender.

Heat relents. The first leaves fall.
I will yield when the sun dies.

You said, “I cannot,”
your back turned to the sunset.
Then, you were silent.

I stared til my eyes burned out.
Blind, I threw rocks at the sun.

I did not expect
to upend Heaven’s order;
it’s a chance in Hell.

Tell me God decrees winter;
tell me seasons cannot change!

Tides change direction,
on the Normandy beaches.
It couldn’t happen.


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