colder in Syria

The sun is edging thru the trees towards my house,

red bud is ablaze, the west follows in a slow wrap

compressing the almost zero air into the bowl

(the coldest time of day down here).

Families in Syria refugee camps

without enough blankets,

too many displaced, dead.

Come on world.

I imagine an octogenarian weaponless troop

marching thru the streets in bright colors

with masks of God

to die

until there

is justice.