Sam Hamill, 'Vigilance'

[duathir.livejournal.com]

Vigilance

Trees, shrubs, grass—everything
glistened in late February frost
as first rays of sunlight
filtered through the woods.
I stood at the window,
coffee mug in hand,
and watched the first spring robin
hop and scratch and eat,
scratch and eat, first under
lace-leaf maples, then
along the edge of the path
that leads out
to my studio. I watched,
for almost an hour,
a happy bird enjoy a feast.

And for an hour, I put
away all thoughts
of our president in Europe
renewing threats,
put away all thoughts of
people decimated
by a great tsunami,
or of the latest casualties
in Iraq. Enough of that.
Give me
one moment with a robin
and a sunrise,
late winter’s harsh yellow light,
and crack
of frozen gravel underfoot
as I go out to work—
frightening off the bird—

a little wonder
in a suffering world,
a little delight
in a world of pain.
And then begin again.

By Sam Hamill

Harley Matthews, 'The Sleep of Death'

[duathir.livejournal.com]

The Sleep of Death

We see no terror in your eyes.
They say that sleeping you were found;
Now we with bayonets guard you round.
Night's shadow up the hillside creeps,
But you still watch the lighted skies,
Although the sentinel that sleeps
The next dawn dies.

Ah, the remorse is gone that grew
To think of what my comrade said:
"Give this to her when I am dead" -
A heart-shaped thing of little worth
That held her picture for his view,
But he was killed and in the earth
Before I knew.

It was last night. My watch I kept,
The stars just overhead shone dim.
Nought moved upon the hills' far rim.
But in the hollows shadows seethed,
And as I watched, towards me crept.
I listened: deep my comrades breathed
Where near they slept.

Below men moved innumerable -
Fancy! and yet there was a doubt.
I closed my eyes to shut them out,
And for relief drew deeper breath,
Across my lids Sleep laid his spell;
I flung it off - to sleep was death,
I knew too well.

There came a pleasant breath of air,
Cool-wafted from the stars it seemed.
I looked: now they all brightly gleamed,
Then long I watched, alert, clear-eyed.
No sleeper stirred behind me there...
Yet then of some one at my side
I grew aware.

I stared: for he stood there, though dead,
Yet looking, that seemed nothing strange;
About his form there was no change
To see within that little light.
"'Tis I. And yet you heard no tread.
A careless watch you keep to-night,"
He laughing said.

His voice no huskier had grown,
Then while I watched, he sat and told
Me of his love just as of old.
"Give this to her," I heard him say.
I looked, and found I was alone.
Within my hand the locket lay
Cold as a stone.

I have it here to prove he lies
Who says that sleeping I was found.
I fear not though you guard me round.
Night's shadow up the hillside creeps,
But I can watch the lighted skies,
Although the sentinel that sleeps
The next dawn dies.

by Harley Matthews