High on the peninsula hills directly opposite my house stands a lone soldier. A welcome part of my everyday landscape, I have wondered often about him and his untold story. In early 2009, a poem 'arrived', landing on the page as if the soldier had called it forth. As if he'd turned his face to my window and was listening.
A month or two ago, my friend Elizabeth sent me a letter. "I'm not sure how to tell you this," she said, "but the soldier has written a reply to his poet."
This is their story.
