Palestinian Spring in the Mist of Time

It is late the moon glows
Warmly among the stars
A Palestinian man sits quietly
Sipping tea pouring seeds
Through his fingers
Sifting through thoughts
Calculates planting
Hope for a season
Of peace
 
His wife hovers nearby
Concerned for his safety
As he slips out planting
In the dimly lit field
Dreams cast danger
From his task at hand
A settler watches
From a distance
Strike now
Or wait
 
Behind the hill
A caterpillar
Revved to life
Flashes bright
Lights
Blasts past
The grove
Bears down
The field
To the man
Sowing
Caught
In the headlight
A bullet flashes
Death against
The spring
Emerging
His wife
Clutches
Their child
As the walls
Collapse

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