Short of death, we crawled home bleeding
after the war, a pretty nurse waiting
to love us, to kiss our ghastly scars
in painless dreams of perfect sunsets—
all worth the suffering our heroes wore
stoically, just under the skin. Even
in the cultivated fields, courageous acts
to save a crop, men and machinery bent
before a freeze, or swimming horses
in a flood to save some cows. We took
our chances in stride, ready to do
the right thing when we knew what it was.
drycrikjournal 
Perfect!
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Oh, that’s good!
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