Bastogne Winter

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This poem appears in my book "Ripples"

It is Christmas in a pine grove
Holding vigil in a foxhole
Not an atheist to be found
As artillery shakes the ground
The pines adorned with crystal flecks
And pinecones as ornaments
A cardinal in all its red
Sits atop Tannenbaum's crest
A piece of fruitcake would taste great
(The regifted and given treat)
Sgt. Kilmer's words to this novice
(As I take in this conus coppice)
"Poems are made by fools like me
But only God can make a tree"
A semblance of a Gospel decree
And the "evergreen" nature of the greenery
With these Christmas trees, alone
I open my "C-rats" in my foxhole
Then pen a letter home from Bastogne

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