Look out the window. Two boys
fighting in the yard. Future
soldiers. Future fathers who
leave their children father-less.
For blood, for reason, for a cause.
Now a crowd has gathered. Two boys
fighting in the yard. No one
interferes, even the woman who
is a grandmother keeps rhythm
to their blows cane-by-cane.
I look up beyond the horizon where
a storm has gathered; its fistful
of clouds, threatening to throw
the first stone.