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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