His Rifle Points Dutifully
To his assigned sector-
Any bogey man
will be righteously pelted
with several loud impotent cracks
of his piping hot piece
not to be confused
with his old peace pipe.
Rifle points east, focused
but his young eyes wander
following every hill and hummock
relishing lying in nature’s own muck.
he looks up
and soaring free,
is the very symbol for which he defends,
with gun pointed at helpless tree.
graceful and sailing.
the boy’s rifle dips
his surety slips.
the young man stands, leaving Rifle on the forest floor
he now Knows
that there is much, much more.
he walks towards the rising sun,
embracing whatever may to him come