Vicksburg

The river glints

in the morning light

as we slowly drive

past the guard-gate

and into the rolling hills

of the Vicksburg Battleground.

But there are no battles here today

in this ringing forest ,

on these wrinkled meadows;

These cannons spit no fire

into this soft Mississippi morning,

and no soldier falls, sighing

into these cool, dark earthworks.

Slowly we drive the winding road

past a bronze soldier

grasping his bronze rifle,

tensely gazing

into the empty distance, waiting

for the screaming charge,

of his deadly brothers.

But all anger spent,

they sleep now

under smart ranks

of gleaming stone;

Now they lie,

unknown soldiers,

lulled by whispering

Southern magnolias

far from forgotten

Northern homes.

(5 August 2010)