Eisenhower Weather
Mountain boy, blond thatch, chin dimple,
Loved the rills and ridges, stomped
The thickest pines, drank sweet waters.
The call that changed him, seemed
The most just thing a boy could do.
Defend his mommy, pop and crew.
Gunneries they were and proud
Of flag, captain and each other.
Yet, on June 6, every soul withered.
He fought and lived, praying now
Now not so much for victory and flag,
But to once again cross his mountain
And hear the splash of his nameless creek.
6 thoughts on "Eisenhower Weather"
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Before he crossed the English Channel with Patton, my father shook hands with Eisenhower and the General paused because my father believed in a firm handshake. The General said softly, ” Most of these boys will not come back, but I trust you will.” You have reminded me of a poem that is long overdo. Thank you…
My dad was as patriotic as the best of them, but his greatest fear was that he would never again return to “Steep Acres”, a place he loved above all other spots he ever knew. Bless him, he did come back, different, but happy to be home.
this is a strong poem… thank you for sharing…
A beautiful remembrance for this date!
Very well written, Bruce.
So poignant. Speaks to the inevitable cost of war, despite the bravery & patriotism of its soldiers.