If I could visit magical Kyiv,
     In the bright effulgence of spring
I would feast my eyes on the
     Architectural splendors
That mirror her people’s sturdy souls.

Then I’d stroll along the Dnieper    
     Where children frolic in cool waters
I’d hear buskers playing fabled songs    
     That sprang from ancestral souls.

The intoxicating aroma of fresh borsht,
     Meats and pastries would so allure
That I would gravitate like a magnet    
     To a charming café to savour each delight.

Sunflowers and trees would be blossomed full  
     And cheerful birdsongs would grace the air.
The streets would be a blur of bikes and autos -    
     All a-scurry with the bustle of  daily enterprise.

I would exchange the required hryvnia    
     For a chair at the Municipal Opera
To weep or laugh with Bohéme or Zauberflöte      
      Or perhaps a Shevchenko work or two.

I close my eyes in prayer for the peace
      That all Ukrainians are meant to have.    
My burning soul is with you always  
       And aches to tell you, face to face

Driving westward into Estes Park
     Is like floating on air –
Snow-capped peaks ahead beckon us.
For a treasured interval,
     The aches and struggles of the world
Fade beneath the call and glory of the mountains.

The long-awaited spring is at last among us
     And the newly re-leafed trees sway in gratitude.

The sweet songs of waking birds
     Blend with the crunch of hiking poles
As the resplendent Rockies
Welcome legions of rejuvenating hikers,
     Who have come to bask in the beauty
Of our pristine trails, streams and lakes.

We hear sermons in the distant thunder
      And rush of a gentle shower
Teaching us we are in the presence
Of glory beyond all comprehension -
     Glory that precedes and follows us
Throughout the eternal march of years.

For my esteemed hardware teammates

Sooner and later
    They all come to Ace.
Some seem certain (even driven) -
     Others a trifle dazed.

Whatever do you need we say -
     A wrench, a drill,
a quart of Highland Breeze?
Perhaps a filter or a socket set
     Or a Flapper Flusher Fixer kit.

Serving you is our honor;
    We're here to provide means
For your visions and dreams.

Just browsing, you say?
     Then enjoy a good walkabout.
Just holler if you feel the urge.
     See you at the finish line.

The steady sunflower
     Follows and glorifies the sun
Tracking its light from dawn to setting -

Each solar tilt
     A dauntless declaration
Of self-fulfilling hope -
     Intrepid symbols of
A strong Ukrainian nation!

After the invaders have left
     In shame and failure -
Their crimes faded
     Into pointless ugly memories and
Liberty sings her triumphal anthem,

Sunflowers will break the soil
     And prevail in everlasting glory
Over all her shining fields and valleys.

Slava Ukraine forever!!

“The pity of war. The pity war distilled”
- Wilfred Owen

When the rising sun breaks
     The curves and slants
Of the Rockies’ eastern horizon,
     Gold and crimson rays cloak the
Western fields and mountains
     With a rich florescent mantle.

Birds greet the emergent light
    With their sweet and cheerful calls
Of greetings to the nascent day.
    A small gathering of does and fawns
Pause to graze for a spell
     beneath the luminescent sky.

Harmony, balance and peace
    Seem to rule the entire earth
But we know sadly better my friends.
    Distant cousins who would
Otherwise pass a pleasant meal
   Gun each other down
Like effigies in a sick carnival game.

How can we dare to hope?
    How can we ever dare to heal?
How can we muster the courage
    To burn our homicidal pride
On the altar of love and justice?”

Listen to the sounds of healing breezes
    Or hear a newborn infant’s cry.
We are all the same, my friends
    Beneath the gold and crimson sky
And Godparents and Godchildren
    Of all another on this azure globe
Drifting through infinity.

With head stuffed with broken glass,
    The small ball-headed man
with cold beady eyes
     says it’s all lies and fakery.

Then let him plead his case
     In court at the Hague.
Let him explain to the judges
    How **** is help
And ****** is deliverance.

He wants to remove Nazis, he says
    But misses the easiest way –
All he needs is a mirror
    To reveal the true face of evil.

Were he to bring to that mirror
     His own personal final solution,
It would be his best shot
    At  helping the most people,
With the least effort,
     In the shortest amount of time.

Tempers flare in russian Markets.
     Neighbors turn on neighbors -
Fighting for the final bag of sugar -
     Snatching a carton of eggs.
from a nearby shoppers cart.

This is but the surface of your pain.
     Your hard-earned coins and notes
Are worth little more than dust.
     Your cherished sons and brothers
Come home in zippered bags.

These and your every other panic
     Has a single homicidal face.
He has ravaged your beloved land.
    This blood soaked KGB assassin
Has stolen your country and your soul.

When the bombs and missiles stop
     When screams of Ukraini widows end,
Your youth and tomorrow’s hope
      will sink no longer to early graves
And the russian soul will rise from its ashes.