I never survived anything like war
Not even a single, ruthless battle.
Instead, this whole cold holiday
Spent sick in bed, those battle-earned
Hours squandered on sleep.
This year, the day’s miracle is sunlight
Filigree of tree shadows through lace curtains,
Peace in the streets,
My lap full of oranges and poems.
Grateful, grateful to be here and free
In a place where gratitude is personal,
This tiny town,
Where the War Memorial is etched
With names they remember
With names they know by heart.
