May 8, 1945

i heard the engines stopping,
a muffled sound like a voice calling
a name; a pause; then, a terrible stillness

i could hear the wind dying, swallowing
the words, pale winter falling into Spring,
the ground tied by clay and stones

i could hear the living and the dead
moving along the wing of the bomber,
sliding down, hand over hand

dropping to the runway;
i could see the smoke rising,
the cloud that spilled over the

air as if leaves were burning
or there was a bonfire of rejoicing
or something like that;

i looked out the window and saw
figures swimming in the bright
green grass as if it were a river

someone called out:
the germans have surrendered
the germans have surrendered