July 1863

The Union campfires flicker,
taunting the retreating Rebel forces.
The marshmallow clouds of daylight,
have since given way to rain.
Causing once tranquil waters,
to rush in chocolate torrents.
As the badly defeated soldiers,
trek through the muddy forests.
Their general pauses on horseback,
to inspect his weary troops.
And the mournful cries of wounded men,
drown out the crickets' song.