in Memorium

What is coming?
I asked of the sky
No thought that blue
Could ever reply
But countless birds
Away did fly
"Something comes"

What is coming?
I asked again
And felt the brush
Of Insistent wind
Pursuing a path
That Avians winged
"Something Comes"

What is coming?
I asked of the sun
The air grown hot
To blister my tongue
Flesh to ash, and
In a flash, done
Something has come

Yet I remain
My ghost, my bone
Remembered this day
In memorial stone
Etched in apology
I've no right to own

Something has come
...and gone
May it not be forgotten


ELAshley
080605.102501.6

Of course, factually, birds were incinerated in flight,
and no wind rushed save those winds atomic,
and those that held Enola above the fray.