April 6, 1861
My students storm the room, spirited
colts penned by the walls
of the school house. Today, there’s no quiet.
Mr. Everly, shouts Scotty Thurman,
my daddy said we’re gonna wash
the Southern heathens
from our land like fleas off a dog.
He said, dumb as they are, won’t take
more than an afternoon He said
it’ll be fun to watch too – good for us all.
Scotty’s eyes beam with anticipation –
as if he perches on the brink
of Christmas morn and the thunder
of war is the sweetest holiday sugar.
Too much candy – we’ll all be ill.
(Previously featured on this blog)