Yule 2006 Poem by James Lee Jobe

Yule. A quarter moon southwesters in early evening.
From the darkness above, the lonely sounds of geese.

An uneasiness, an uncertainty lies across the earth.
An old cat with no tail watches the empty street.

Valley oaks, long nude of leaves, whisper in a chill wind.
Commanding clouds slide in, covering the moon; thick, strong.

In some other world, its war. Iraq. Somalia. Afghanistan.
Soldiers die, civilians die - hard politics. Hatred.

Not here. Here, in bottomland, wild herons hunt. Free.
People go to the market and buy tomatos, oranges.

No one believes that this evil will happen to their children.
And no one speaks out against the evil that they cannot see.