Hooves paw at the ground,
Thrusting the bodies they carry forward-
Suppressed silence broken
by thunder upon the ground.
The field is silence held on the ragged edge-
The faint miasma of dawn is pregnant with false hope
Ready to break free only to be reined in-
Is the thunder upon the ground.
Heads lifted and gazing over the field of battle-
It’s valley in shadowed repose-
The occupants it holds waiting
The sound of thunder to fill the air.
The call of the lark,
so full of hope-
Fills the air as the sound of the drum rises above-
The thunder filling the air.
Cry of honor goes up over the drums-
The bodies the hooves carry thrusting forward-
One last gasp of breath filling the lungs
Before the plunge in to the thunderous roar.
Stretched thin and weary-
Muscles move in well trained symphony
Taking down the enemy-
Lungs filling and expelling the thunderous roar of victory.
Silence tries to reign as the valley reposes with the night-
Cries of the newly dying held in anguish
embraced by the living
whose memory is still with the dying sound of thunder upon the ground.
Time passes with newly won memories-
Youth quickly becoming a yearning of old men-
Whose memories are still filled-
With thunder upon the ground.