Sunday, 25 April 2010
ANZAC Day, Dawn Service
By the war memorial as darkness thaws
to dawn, the wind shifts through
the large trees full of dying leaves
with a shudder that moves us
to imagine the sound of dark waves
rolling on to a beach
in a more perilous, morning light.
The soldiers had enough ammo
to make a way through,
to protect a mate,
or so they believed. The Last Post
sounds, the bugle's indefinite final note
like a question, a haunting echo
for those hearing it to hold on to
as it hangs in dank air
like an oar just before it slices back
down again into black water.
Kay McKenzie Cooke
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