In spring of 1863
word of war came to the pine hills
of southern Mississippi,
a man named Slade
was finishing work
on a two room log cabin
with an open dogtrot & large & open porches.
He left his wife & children a cow
two hogs, some chickens & a bag of seed corn
& was killed with Greene’s men
in the battle for Vicksburg.
Today the sun
shines through the open window
& outside gardens grow,
wisteria bloom,
& clothes dry in the wind
that shakes the seed pod helicopters
from the tulip poplar,
a swirling snow
of tiny grey angels…
I will never be anything else.
-Greg Stanford
