Armistice Wind - Edit2

[dukealien]

edit2;

Armistice Wind


On Friday last, an hour before
the sun reached its meridian
I listened indoors for the crash
of guns.

Police shoot volleys on this day
each year in my town’s graveyard, blanks
to symbolize an armistice -
not peace.

Little heard, just acorns falling
rattled like spent bullets on
hunched helmets as they struck my roof
and rolled.

An east wind stirred dead leaves and limbs
to rustle, flutter, softly thunder,
warning ghost of distant drumfire
waking.

Then louder, rushing past, that gale
blew shrill, demanding pan-pipe notes -
trench-whistles calling men to rise
and fall.

So Friday last I never heard
those guns proclaiming armistice:
wind must have carried their reports
away.

edit1;

On Friday last, an hour before
the sun reached its meridian
I listened indoors for the crash
of guns.

Policemen shoot them on this day
each year in my town’s graveyard, blanks
to symbolize an armistice ~
not peace.

At first no shots, just acorns falling
rattled like spent bullets on
hunched helmets as they struck my roof
and rolled.

Between, wind stirred dead leaves and limbs
to rustle, flutter, softly thunder,
warning ghost of distant drumfire
waking.

Then louder, rushing past, that gale
blew shrill, demanding pan-pipe notes ~
trench-whistles calling men to rise
and fall.

So Friday last I never heard
those guns proclaiming armistice ~
some wind had carried their reports
away.


original;


On Friday last, an hour before
the sun reached its meridian
I waited indoors for the sound
of guns.

Policemen shoot them on this day
each year in my town’s graveyard, blanks
to symbolize an armistice ~
not peace.

I didn’t hear them, only acorns’
rattle like spent bullets on
hunched helmets as they struck my roof
and rolled.

Between, wind stirred dead leaves and limbs
to rustle, flutter, softly thunder,
warning ghost of distant drumfire
waking.

Then louder, rushing past, that breeze
blew high demanding pan-pipe notes ~
trench whistles calling men to rise
and fall.

So Friday last I never heard
those guns proclaiming armistice ~
some wind had carried their reports
away.

Metric  variations in S3&4 are intentional, but open to criticism.

Seasonal, from last month.