Carl Sandburg wondered about the
home life of a hangman.
What about the fresh-faced, Air Force
kids who monitor the nuclear
weapons in remote, cold, boring
places? Maybe they are too
young to think about what they
are doing or, more at it, what
they might be called on to do.
The hangman just had to think
about one or maybe two necks
a day.
Great poetry here Robert … and thanks for the reference to the Sandburg poem, one of my favorites …