A place to learn

Freemont School sat across from

A graveyard; filled with

Flowers and dead soldiers.

Both were fresh and bright red.

The children play.

Starflowers and Spring Beauties

Migrate from Freemont School

To graves, plucked by tiny hands

Darkened by native dirt.

The children play.

Flags fall to half mast.

It’s the closest thing

To official tears the town

Can muster for the dead.

The children play.

Lessons change, Hometown heroes,

Plastered on classroom walls.

Dying free becomes the goal.

Hands fly to salutes.

The children play.

Dirt laced hands place flowers

Across from Freemont school.

Starflowers and Spring Beauties

Wilt, wither, and die young.

The children play.

Reviews

[Ed Hart]

emily alerted me to your new presence here...she's right, you've got the motion and the mojo...i've read your posted poetry this morning and am glad you are among us, Ed

[Emily B]

oh, there is a little of the dark irony of Stephen Crane in your words, you are well-studied, and your work reflects it