I did not wonder
why the steadfast mother
did not speak as she stood
beside her husband
who railed in the public forum
against those who questioned
the service laid down
for the nation by their son.
Grief is the hum of the invisible
electric fence around the field;
and each bowed head— sunflower,
corn stalk, ragged vine— never
makes one sound even as it stands
in the burning eye of the sun.