True to Nature Men take up arms to battle in the sun, anticipating minor victories won o'er valiant, steadfast foes who, if they could, would laugh and say our blades do little good as far as cutting them down to their size. For soon enough the downtrodden shall rise and sounds of battle fill the air again. Oppression humbles neither fields nor men. Poe Valley From where we sat the lake below shone verdant in the midday sun, as if the mossy forest glow was not a simple reflection of the surrounding wealth of trees, but something spread throughout the deep; much more than what the surface sees, and what the water means to keep. Stone Wall for Dale and Sis Give me a seat near an old stone wall in a meadow stretching far to a copse of trees where songbirds call and the deer and pheasant are; where a creek fed from a mountain stream winds its way o'er polished stone, and a butter knife breeze spreads a seam through a field no more mown. Give me a seat near an old stone wall, whether bound'ry or the last of an aged barn that once stood tall as the hay wagons rolled past. Let seasons change and time crumble all that foundations underlie. Give me a seat near an old stone wall and the words to mark it by. Dean Robbins is a poet living in Pennsylvania. Featured Image: "Washington Crossing the Delaware" by Emanuel Leutze (1816-1868).