On a stone set in a wall 
in Concord, along a road,
we learn that what happened 
here was the waiting, the
second, minutes, hours
before a country's history
was sent spinning by 
gathering forces, and we 
know men almost certainly 
stamped their feet on this 
field, still framed by pine 
trees, for that very April 
19th morning, in Cambridge, 
Professor John Winthrop 
checked his thermometer 
twice, so it was 46 degrees 
for sure, "fair with a strong 
chilly west wind," but warmed 
by their bravado, the men 
stoked each other like hearth 
fires growing cold, while 
inside, icy fright, masked 
by the chill, then the thought 
shared like a campfire song 
never sung, "Oh, who will 
return home tonight?"

Waiting is no simple thing, it's 
where the courage happens.

First the field, then the bridge.

By a field above the 
Concord Bridge
Concord, Mass.

August  2004

All written material © Bill Schechter, 2016
Contact Bill Schechter