Lou J. Klaiber

THE TREES HAVE TEARS

A soft wind curls beside trees
at sundown
when birds scatter color into branches,
and heartache just
goes away.

I hear the sound of war
… so far away
never-ending war.

What is left to me?

A Rebel heart?
A soldier’s soul.

A citizen growing old.

An American?

No!

… just an old man who cannot
answer
the living questions.

… and the anger of those who do not believe us
and what we have told.

a soldier’s soul?

Perhaps!

but so long ago.