Monday, August 16, 2010

Crows in circles

Early morning
In the growing heat
Of the summer day
Crows gather and circle
Where the boys now laid
Dying where they stood
Some still had life,
Others dead for certain
A field of mourning
Covered in dew
Sweating blood
Through the night
Silently praying
For the merciful end
That comes to other men
Not those fighting
In a foreign land
Against nameless foes
In the shallow grass
Slick with ichors
Deep in woe
The bodies lay
To rot in autumn
Like left behind pumpkins
After the harvest
And soon to be covered
In a dressing of snow