Confederate Avenue in sun

sun scars the eye
radiant among the grain
free from shade

under that cruel light they stood
waiting, oh waiting, an end

Devil's Den

seated high on rock
solid beneath my fingers
I ask myself

who belongs in such a place
and who am I to lay claim

The Angle

Standing, foot on dust
dry clouds kicked up and swirling
My mind meanders

Confusion of times now past
Place is certain, here beneath

Reynolds Avenue Picnic

Here seated
wings of a maple tree
hang over us

wonderfully still
gently welcoming in joy

North Carolina

Scatter branches
a proud monument stands
figures rushing forth
but I stand back, looking out
Oh ridge that lies beyond!

too preoccupied
leaves scribble over the paths
distant rustling
landscape captured by drum,
hanging with doom, crashing close

thoughts pour on brown earth
figures fall out of focus
I forget
left under the trees
spiders dance in my place

General Hancock + Armistead Markers

Strawberry citrine
hue of a sunken sky pales
blocked by a marker
memory of one so brave
though tall, soon felled by fire

that fire now spreads
across the rows of mountains
rolling blue hill-lines
run parallel the massed ranks
color mirrors and fades away

Not so far by foot.
upon reaching, all color
sunken to grey
the air hangs calm while we pass
cloudless skies deepen their tone

though I draw near
my soul is clouded
my mind falls, face down
a prayer for you, general?
could it save one who has gone?

Before deciding
I am nudged on in my walk
my eyes cannot turn back
yet this wayward heart
drags behind me in the dust

Left behind the fields
are buried in thin darkness

Image credit: Kathy Hillard's return to the
Gettysburg photograph page TelegraphTent