Five, Seven, Five For Ukraine

 the naked pine tree
scorched, awaits funeral rites  
in the red forest
 
radiated dust
wind-tossed over barren land
where sunflowers grew
 
freezing snow crack lips,
sting of hunger sinks the eyes,
tanks crush skulls and dreams
 
the keloid forest’s
trenches, stacked with dead; others
pray for peace, again  
 
rufous turtle doves’
four-syllable call response
echo war sirens
 
Ukraine’s sun will rise
Its moon hack the surging tides 
settles them once more