On Veteran’s Day, I rake the leaves
So many now have fallen,
A simple chore I’ve done before
When I hear winter calling.
No glory in this stooping down
And scooping piles of wilted brown
from autumn’s faded grass and winter’s chilling ground?
No honor in this humble task? … shhh,
the neighbors may be watching … “Good for him” some say,
Others say, “forget it, just let them blow away.”
But no one sees my little yard has now become a shrine,
My grubby clothes a uniform, the leaves are friends of mine.
My rake a flag I proudly wave,
And the grass beneath my spit shine shoes is now a sacred grave.
The beads of sweat are really tears …
My God it seems so many years …
What a blessing to just be raking here.
Thank you Lord for the fallen ones,
For those who’ve paid the debt.
Thank you Lord for the fallen leaves,
lest I should ever forget.
Bill Kron, November 11, 1997 Veterans Day
Dedicated to the St. Louis County Veterans Memorial Hall
and to those who have paid the ultimate price for our country