War Memorial in an Orkney Valley
On its weathered spire sings a blackbird
a near silhouette sentinel
in false light of the moon
its sonar song scans the stillness of the fields
and a melody of melancholy
lulls the lowing beasts to sleep.
Then a reply
from the dusky auditorium where night is born
like an echo
scored with imperfections
leaves the blackbird thinking
is that friend?
or is that foe?
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