Armistice Wind - Edit2

[Quixilated]

Duke, I absolutely love this.  I have lived in an oak forest and the rat-a-tat-tat of acorns pelting the roof on a windy day is noisy indeed.  Somehow even the rhythm you set sounds like the pattern of their assault.  I only have a few little suggestions.  

Armistice Wind


On Friday last, an hour before  
the sun reached its meridian
I waited indoors for the sound "waited" kept tripping me up, only a little, but it feels squeezed in somehow.  And then "sound" is actually a soundless word, I would like something stronger to describe the voice of the guns.  Even something like "thunder" which gives a reverse metaphor as the rest of the poem compares the storm to the sound of guns and war. But really just something noisier would be nice.  
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’ personal opinion, but I feel it spoils the end to tell us now that the narrator never heard the guns at all.  I would love to experience the waiting and to listen alongside him through all the noise and have the final epiphany together.
rattle like spent bullets on
hunched helmets as they struck my roof and I just love how throughout you meld the nature sounds with the war images they are mimicking.
and rolled.

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

Then louder, rushing past, that breeze breeze seems too gentle for the sounds you are describing.  Breezes generally gently waft, they brush the hair into your eyes.  Something stronger is needed to be so forceful and loud.  gust, gale, blast, tempest ...?
blew high demanding pan-pipe notes ~ something is off in the punctuation here, but I can't put my finger on it.  Commas are the bane of my existence, but the wrong words are sticking together, so something is needed somewhere. Perhaps after "high"??
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.

Again I love the war-storm imagery, how it all weaves together, and the rhythm is just beautiful, so perfectly acorny.  

--Quix