The Other Side of the Moon

To Tomorrow

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Footsteps signed with blood
scattered in a line
on verdant strands of grass
They are walking to the end
of the crackled soil beneath.
The burnt siena land
stumped and bruised and scarred
in fights for precious life
In the very distant horizon
the azure and the green
smudged with sccarlet dots
are breathed upon by the wind.
The undulating grass
with the footmarks made of blood
staring at the sky
and teardrops tear the clouds
They drop, they bounce
and they wash
stains on the verdant grass
and they melt the gory battles
fought in the shadows of night.