20150608 (peacetime)

Once in my childhood I would have been two

I remember my mom saying loud the war is over as

She took me to our front porch roughly eight feet

Above the blessed lovely red brick road

Cars passing through didn’t swish silently by

But sounded a buzzy patter as they touched

Every brick. The sky was blue almost cloudless

She said if I listened I could hear the thunder

Grow louder. I had never heard anything that loud

Grasped her skirt and her leg and clung close

Take a look I can see them I could almost hear her shout

But the noise was everything now closer faster

More distinct rasping like chains of firecrackers 

Slithering towards my foot.  Oh, look! 

Look! They’re flying right over! I saw 

A horde of black crosses hurtling above

Huge growling monsters their shadows

Raced up the street the bricks trees and houses 

I couldn’t count but it took a while for the noise to soften

When they had finally disappeared 

My mom walked to the neighbors next door 

With me clinging to her leg and skirt 

Dragging my frightened little body

Like an injured leg across the grass. 

It was a flight a dozen B-24s at 200 feet

Celebrating the end of fighting in Europe.

Giving the public a little something back 

For all their sons war bonds crushed cans 

Collected cloth paper and bacon fat

Recycled into ships tanks explosives

They’d saved up their rations 

To make a cake for a birthday

Gone without gas cancelled a visit 

Bought only what they needed 

The amount allowed when they could buy it.

Except for gas now saved to bring the boys home

The sacrificing was probably done

I learned this all much later

I was still shaking from the intimidating snarl

Of the ominous black monsters

Everyone else was happy as ever

c. J.S.Manista, 2015