The Sound of History

The air in Gettysburg whispers.

Rising slow but insistent
above the lazy buzz of flies
and gentle whir of breezes
bending the morbid grass
quite late on a summer's day,

I hear the faint but unmistakable
serial crack of musket fire,
a soft boom of artillery,
the muted shouts of generals,
and quiet vivid moans of pain
as life ebbs relentlessly
from a soldier's torn body,
his cause abandoned.