By Keith Douglas
The noble horse with courage in his eye,
clean in the bone, looks up at a shellburst:
away fly the images of the shires
but he puts the pipe back in his mouth.
Peter was unfortunately killed by an 88;
it took his leg away, he died in the ambulance.
I saw him crawling on the sand, he said
It's most unfair, they've shot my foot off.
How can I live among this gentle
obsolescent breed of heroes, and not weep?
Unicorns, almost,
for they are fading into two legends
in which their stupidity and chivalry
are celebrated. Each, fool and hero, will be an immortal.
These plains were their cricket pitch
and in the mountains the tremendous drop fences
brought down some of the runners. Here then
under the stones and earth they dispose themselves,
I think with their famous unconcern.
It is not gunfire I hear, but a hunting horn.
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Daniel and Adam are here and we are watching Captain America: The First Avenger so I will be quick! Daniel and I went to Bagel City for lunch, got in line to order, and spotted my mother in line ahead of us, so she ended up getting us lunch and extra bagels, then Daniel and I came home and caught him up on some Last Week Tonight while I did chores and he played video games.
Paul came home early to hang out with him, then Adam arrived and they compared Kirby versions before we went to my parents' for dinner and birthday cake for Paul (whose actual birthday is Saturday, so then we're going to see his parents). Here are a few photos from our day, including the early spring post-snow view off the deck:
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