The Value of Shadows
The remains of the night’s rain lay soggy upon
the waterlogged branches of limp, bowed trees,
appearing as the hunched, angled, stooped
backs of many old men walking here.
I caught a shape in the mist that
reminded me of you, or
perhaps I was just imagining
you and your soldiers returning
to the spot you had fought so hard to hold.
As the sun peeked through,
I remembered these were only trees,
although I gratefully recall it was here,
sixty years ago,
that your battalion won the day.