image: Iraqis carry a coffin and its cover past wreckage in the yard of a police station in Baghdad, Iraq after a band of insurgents launched an assault early Monday, June 20, 2005 killing at least eight policemen and one baby, officials said. At least 23 were wounded. The attack began just before dawn and included at least three car bombs, rocket-propelled grenades and small arms fire, police said. The sign painted on the wall reads ‘Garbage Here.’ (AP Photo/Khalid Mohammed)

Cross-posted at DailyKos, Booman Tribune, and European Tribune.

image and poem below the fold

The Owl
by Edward Thomas

Downhill I came, hungry, and yet not starved;
Cold, yet had heat within me that was proof
Against the North wind; tired, yet so that rest
Had seemed the sweetest thing under a roof.

Then at the inn I had food, fire, and rest,
Knowing how hungry, cold, and tired was I.
All of the night was quite barred out except
An owl’s cry, a most melancholy cry

Shaken out long and clear upon the hill,
No merry note, nor cause of merriment,
But one telling me plain what I escaped
And others could not, that night, as in I went.

And salted was my food, and my repose,
Salted and sobered, too, by the bird’s voice
Speaking for all who lay under the stars,
Soldiers and poor, unable to rejoice.

– – –

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