Massed armies deciding the fates of nation states may be a thing of the past, but a man killed in a small war is just as dead as a man killed on Omaha Beach seventy-one years ago. In both cases a wife, a mother, a girlfriend, had to go on living, and as year follows year most get through the day, but not the nights.

She lies abed these sleepless nights
And thinks of many things
Of all the many wondrous sights
That each tomorrow brings
The windows turn from dark to gray
The birds are now awake
To celebrate the newborn day
As sunlight paints the lake
Now fully light, the woods ablaze
With autumn’s brilliant hues
She rises and she turns her gaze
To other wondrous views
A pair of deer walk by the fence
Unhurried, unafraid
A squirrel’s tail switches, quite intense
Annoyed by the parade
Meridian comes much too soon
And life slows to a walk
All sleeping now that it is noon
Except the red-tailed hawk
Who circles lazily at height
For the unwary prey
And soon the afternoon is night
As dusk replaces day
The starlit wood stands crystal clear
The moon begins her climb
A hidden owl says he’s quite near
It’s midnight says the chime
She sighs and wanders off to bed
Insomnia to fight
She doesn’t mind the daytime dread
But oh the lonely night