Nostalgia...

J

The wind again blows snow

Through limbs of tired wood

Aching to burst its life upon us;

And blades of green reach out

Expecting golden sun

To find cold white pieces of winter

Still falling from an obviously sentimental sky. 

Terror....

Terror first climbs from beneath a bed
And from the shadows...of the dead?
As our journey makes its way
It moves from darkness...into day.

A short walk to an uncle's viewing,
The aunt's tears and her despair.
Grief repeats with no reprieve
And somehow it turns normal.

"Terror is as terror does,"
A Forrest once might say.
Let it in and it becomes,
I will turn away.

"ISIS is as ISIS does,"
Terror is their game.
And each day it's death we see
More Horrors in their name.

Then one fine day...bright and serene,
Like 9/11/2001,
You stop to smell some coffee...
And then you smell no more......