So sorry readers., I rushed to post
forgetting that: “A poem is never finished,
FROZEN SOULS Update
At 5:00 pm
guards would start collecting women;
children looked through bombed out eaves
to see stars, sometimes the moon.
Once there was a different kind of light—
A child inhaled the essence
like food she was not getting.
Rachel stretches. This 70 years old memory,
she thinks, and now another dangerous era.
The pandemic needs drastic measures.
And the horse porch hearth glows;
new beams mix with old.
We watch home movies.
The hitching post stands idle.
(c) Gudrun Mouw