High on the peninsula hills directly opposite my house stands a lone soldier. He is part of my everyday landscape and I have wondered often about him and his story. Some years ago - in early 2009 - a poem 'arrived', landing on the page as if the soldier had called it forth. As if he were listening. And then, 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 response to his poet."
This is the conversation that passed between them.
