A cloudy day in early May in old England

(for my father & to all his warrior-comrades)

Photo by Henry Be on Unsplash

In a field full of spring flowers
I hear a pause in the silent roar
of time as it rhymes its way
to the full stop that ends all
our lives. A hidden reverence
leaps across a rainbow into
my clouded sight, inverse night
falls away, sun appears in patches,
all is as it was before, crema four
in Auschwitz II-Birkenau.
Above, in the skies, Spitfires…