Angels descend on battlefield;
wingspans at rest, the soldiers’ shield.
Men wounded clutch still beating hearts
and Heaven sounds as souls depart.
A friend or foe, none call to yield.
In frantic prayers, mothers are kneeled.
Their worried eyes try to conceal.
As God reflects love to impart,
Oh, time stopped on that killing field.
Afternoon sun on high revealed
deep crimson stains, limbs torn apart.
The south's cruel victory to chart.
On hallowed ground, brave souls are healed -
By Rhonda Johnson-Saunders, 10/14/2013
for Gail Doyle's An Angel In Your Eyes Contest
**Rondeau rhyme scheme