By the road to the military hospital
under the surge of mountain blue
malt clouds driven south,
I was brown leaves living.
Patches of frozen water
scattered under Aspen.
Along the parade ground torture
the trees undressed in lines
by the numbers, always by numbers.
Spring was along time away
lifeless and naked.
Long purple branches uncertain
at the winter breath,
one by one, inhabitants marched out
a stark line of groved men
meeting nothing but a duty time bell.
Dave Barber
24 Oct 08
Natural Laws
