Reflections on a Summer Eventide
The red sun slid below the tree line. The horses quietly grazed. I drove home - windows, moon roof wide-open, tree frogs, insects a cacophonous symphony. Past the farmer’s fallow field flickering with fireflies, a lone silhouette of a deer warily watched. Iraq war? My shame red as the sun.
by Roz
by Roz
posted by Kate at 4:43 PM
1 Comments:
Like the person in the "poem",I too am ashamed to be an American. What must it be like now to travel overseas. I remember back in the late 60's and 70's meeting German tourists and thinking of their shame when asked their nationality. Well, now one can always say, "I'm a Canadian."
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