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
