An old poem of mine I found in my files:
I Didnít See the Parade
I didnít see the parade this morning, no;
what I saw were blooms that glow in the sun and grow.
I didnít hear loud trumpet, cymbal, drum;
from songs of birds, with light I was overcome.
I didnít feel the gravity of the day;
I felt the warmth that launches June from May.
I heard the wind, like flutes, sough through the trees
and knew that war will never silence these.