Camp Butler, National Cemetery,
home to fallen soldiers and wives
sees a stream of folks coming
gathering for solemn ceremonies
followed by volleys of rifle shots
the whole graced
with tears
 
Widows with children
stand and watch, listen
kind words spoken
then flag folded purposefully
and handed to her
a gift from a grateful nation, preserved
 
A clang of metal against metal
as the half mast Camp flag flutters
whipping and snapping in the wind
Almost like notes, messaging,
snapping a salute
there is an unseen, but present
a dimension we sense is there
but we can’t see…yet.