Charles J. Ingerson

WHISTLING SHELLS

Fiercely crying
ballistic sun rays
filling the dying
amid world frays

Resounding oft
dusting and popping
crumbling soft
nothing stopping

Rapid firing heard
screams echo thin
a planet absurd
peace is lost within

Whistling shells
no rest to be found
intertwining of hells
wickedly this sound

Yet faraway woods
silence stalks all
hunters in hoods
sunsets to stall

A sharp crack
brilliance of light
engaged the attack
precursor to the night

Whistling shells today
some in violence
where widows pray
others in benevolence

A world of harvest
some without reason
all withering in rest
in a changing season