Ellen Compton

resonance

On Harleys, Hondas, Yamahas, they ride each summer to the capital: those who survived the war in Viet Nam, here on Memorial Day to honor those who didn't. Every year we promise we will see them, and this year we do.

Gathering from the four directions, they arrive in twos or tens or fifties–some alone, some with pillion riders up. The summer sun is high and the sky is clear, yet we hear thunder as a thousand engines roar. The slow ride to the Wall . . .

evening coolness–
in shadow beneath the names
child's toy soldier