Boy

From the vantage point of a sandwich shop,

across a busy street,

on the inland road leading to

a shady grove of smaller homes,

you see him go off to war.

In the past, the hum of households

kept the winters warm; children

in dove-grey down comforters

slept the whole night through.

Now, the Army platform truck,

with the brown and green canvas tent,

is stationed intrusively

under ribs of bare trees

on a suburban street.

Then you see him running out,

a dot of movement

boy to man

gone before—

the wind lassoes

the remaining

leaves.

11/19/2005