A cold silence grips the field,
broken only by an occasional clank of armor,
yesterday the streets were cowded,
children at play,
the hammer fall and ashes billowing out shops.
Today lays fresh fallen snow and two fate armies,
suddenly masses grow tense.
the trumpets sound doom's sound.
Screech of steel and cries of men now grip the ears of the city beyond.
Women cringe, children cry, and animals search for safety. All in fear.
By the end of the day, the towns people emerge with a grinding whine.
The gates present two gifts, the first the shed of light and fresh air.
The later however presents the many corpses of battle, which dyes the snow red.
The many women and children weep for their loved joining the army,
but one stands out...
this family sheds no tear for the know of the noble cause,
their loved was a young farm hand,
he joined not for promise of wealth, land, or blood lust.
But to protect his child, and her mother.
Jacob Biehl's Other Poems
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