The Night Before the Battle, 1865 by James Henry Beard, Ekphrasis
resting up breathing in and out cards folded up all’s quiet silence is deafening dreams are deep coffee’s steep grounds heavy not a peep except for in and out through nostrils and mouth the count is loud brave, grave dreams last until a blast of a brash trumpet clash of night’s skeleton sentinel and day’s nightmarish gore waking up to close one’s eyes once more
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