Arlington
Arlington
Row upon row
as if grown from the green carpet
they stand starkly white at attention.
Mute sentinels in the drenching sunlight.
Although rooted and still,
in martial regiments, they march endlessly
to the joining of blue sky and green grass carpet.
Those who come here
find the etched places, the names;
the beginnings and the endings.
Those who are here
cannot see, but only rest.
At least that is what we who are the living think,
although perhaps those who are here
Turn restlessly at night and dream.
Flag draped, veiled tears,
percussion cap volley,
the little girl sobs
wrapped in the arms of her mother, his wife.
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