The Turning Point
Blue versus gray, brother versus brother
At Chickamauga and Vicksburg, she remained
In the car, as I scoured the fields of battle,
Closed my eyes and traced the flight of the cannonball
Into the future
Under a hackberry tree, near Sulphur Dell
On a crackerjack blanket we watch
Underhand bowlers and artistic strikers
Swinging through time. Cloud hunters scrape
The shadows of the Capitol
Ghosts of Union soldiers toss aside hard
Tack, and steer the ball like sprites
On the grounds between the scouts,
Barehanded in the garden of the astral plane
The arbiter rings the bell
Doug Hoekstra 