To Meet Her Is To Greet Her Poem by James McLain

The noise of the ordinary, voices,
Tireless voices that echoed their needs and wants.
From the throngs of the women, one I saw.
From the back of her eyes, she saw me, she I saw,
Leaves of three colors, the wind helped them fall.
Clean green womanly featchers and lips that though full,
Open and tug, tug and tug.
This was her message to me as falling back I reached out.
Men by the million's have died like this, our fate controlled,
By full lips and strong hand's.
The few who survive that return what they get are the wise.