A White Horseman
Will it end, this summer heat,
oppressive siege like your absence?
No letter from you today—
nor did it rain—unbearable.
Earth and I thirst for your presence—
fill my garden with new blooms.
Twenty-three days with no word;
the earth cracks, the grass turns brown.
Last night thunder in the skies
returned with clouds, but no rain.
In my dreams you ride a white horse;
you wear black and do not speak.
Autumn winds relieve the drought;
a letter commends your acts.
Your bravery saved many lives;
your funeral complete with taps.
Quiet tears fill each of my nights
grieving victims of all wars.
John Daleiden is retired from 43 years of teaching Language Arts in Iowa Public Schools. He now lives in Phoenix, Arizona. He currently serves on the Editorial Board and Submissions Manager of Four Chambers: The Heart of Literature in Phoenix, Arizona (www.fourchamberspress.com) From 2006-2012, he was an editor and webmaster of Sketchbook: A Journal for Eastern and Western Short Forms.