the return of summer

Icicles may fall from high shattering upon frozen ponds

in forests coldly brutal as  empty war torn villages

in a distant mountain range shrouded in snow clouds

like artillery barrages in countries far from where we are

the snap of a bullet upon its sure path

the screams as of shattering glass

the spreading bloody pool of broken shards skittering

across a landscape that has no forgiveness

nor eyes of peace to return the silence and beauty

to streets that once knew love

yet shall the sun return once more

to melt the frozen hearts and breathe life again

into a land gripped harshly

by the painfully cold claws of war