upi
J.F.K.23 November 1963
Grief came flooding inover every hill,down all our streetsright into the heart of town,the day the President was shot,insisting that he lie in statehere with usfor three days and nights,until they camewith a caisson,behind whicha veiled mournerwith children walked,taking him as we watchedout across the viaductand on up overour steepest hilluntil we lost themfrom sight.
Then silence hung long over our townuntil the morning the rains ceasedwhen we woke to sunbreaking through dark clouds,and looking up we saw gently rippling Vsagainst the emblazoned skyand heard flocks of wild geesecalling down to usto rise up, to carry on.
With spirits gladdenedwe set to removing flowersand the portraits from off the streets,candles and lamps were gatheredfrom curbs and fencesand then we stripped the treesof those long black ribbonsthat during those days of griefhad been fluttering in the breeze.