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August 23, 1944 - 102 miles west of Paris (Free verse) by Ranger

"Locket" This field is dead This road dismayed The earth has been grazed Ploughed into bruising waves by steel oxen Who'd thundered like the sea Mist & smoke Breaking beneath a murderous moon They trod that final road And closed their eyes at last Now those tides have been stemmed All oceans are silent Remaining only in the whittling of wind Through empty shells Dawn air, still, thin and calm Birds struggle for purchase While on the ground lies a small gold ring With a small white face Staring at the sky

Dovina 3-Jul-06/7:20 PM
I’m trying to remember the history. Without looking it up, I think this is Normande a few months after D-Day. The beach was secure and the Allies were moving toward Berlin. I kinda wish you gave the setting for us dummies.

Some good language here, but I think “who’d” is no better than a simple “who.”

“whittling of wind” is nice, but “remaining only” seems odd and not quite true.

I don’t quite get how birds struggle for purchase, unless they are fighting to get the ring.

No doubt there’s a true story behind this.




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