Years ago, in 1969, my husband, Jim Morton, and our children, Becky Copeland and Kevin Copeland, lived in Libby, where we had the Pay N Pak store.
I wrote articles for the paper, particularly about the local artists. I did several on Ray Porter.
This poem I am enclosing was published 45 years ago in your paper and it seems to be it could have been yesterday.
I thought you might like to print it again.
Gloves of White
They’re flying all the flags today
Up California and down Mineral way.
Another soldier’s home from war.
He does not sing, he speaks no more.
And long ago, one day in spring
I took the flag the soldiers bring
With measured tread and gloves of white
And bugle notes that took to flight.
Now, all the years that I have seen
And still he sleeps, just seventeen
When will we learn it is God’s plan
That man must finally live with man.
I loved living in Libby.