Poem written after W. Whitman
The Footsteps
The footsteps lightly drumming
In the sky of blue and gray.
With amber breeze among the leaves
And shadowed mountain lakes.
The shrill cold sound-high pitched,
Too low to hear
Remains before the sands of time
The country plagued with fear.
Amongst the everlasting knowledge
Of hope renewed at last
The war now distinguished
And all over the world,
The sound was heard as echoes linger still.
Page 7 Black Moon selections of poetry Bethany College Lindsborg, KS 1988
