Digging trenches, sunken defences
against flood and farm-fouled run-off,
a discovery gives pause.
Once the soldiers ran these cliffs,
looking for invaders, boats by night,
enemies creeping up with the tide.
They left behind a hand grenade,
souvenir of suspicious times
stumbling the head-scratch builders.
Bomb disposal drives away pleased,
three young men in army fatigues –
descendants of the defenders?
Who will find the seeds we now sow,
overgrown among the weeds,
reminders that the pursuits of war
yield grudgingly to peace?
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