Lumber

I am 13
Sitting in
My Uncle
Bob’s office
In the lumber
Yard across the
Street from Grandma’s
Where the railroad tracks end
And the air has the odor of fresh
Cut wood heavy with resins as
My Uncle Bob takes time to
Talk with me about an iron
Soup kettle his company
Captured from and lost
To the German Army.
Captured in battles
In Normandy and
Lost on the first
Day of battle
At the Bulge
December
1944 and
How he
Made
His escape
But regretted
Losing the perfect
Soup kettle designed
To cook and feed an entire
Company of soldiers but
Glad he stayed alive
Normandy beach
Through pines
At the Bulge
Battles on
Snowy
Hills
In the
Ardennes.
He looked far
Away as he spoke
But still smiled at my
Curiosity about events
A decade and half past
Sitting in the lumber
Yard safe smelling
The fresh-cut
Lumber cut
Up an’ not
Down.