Song On The Somme

A brisk haze lingers on the Somme before daybreak
Silhouettes parade in ritual fashion;
marching spirited fallen soldiers
Humming baritones, tuning from a war long gone
To us.

Hymns are hindered by densely hazed ridden ether
Fog and song colliding as death - powder and musk once fused.
The departed still combat; with duty engraved on mounds.
Crabgrass; the life adorning the buried boned remnants;
Accustomed to solemnly choirs - oscillating with familiarity
As some were there and tasted the bodily fallout of war.

Battle won and the song sweeps over a lush eerie Somme.
A hush; helpless to the will of turmoil filled winds,
Collide leaves tunefully - rustling to the beat of soulful outpouring
Pulsing, from roots stemming deep into the maze of entombment
Flocks of black sparrows disperse from the mesmerizing murmurs.
The brass choir can now be grasped:

This is where we lie
Patriot's graved abroad
For this is where we die
Flesh duly thawed.
To the Somme - we tie;
To linger forever flawed
Until our home - we fly.

Our homeland! We cry
For 'tis reason we fought,
Splintered and bled dry
That death us wrought.
Let us glide o'er hills high,
Sever the strings so taut
That grace then bid us bye.