Poem: "The Field"

As I hurry through this field late March,
To a meeting I go
I think for a moment,
And reflect, "Oh."

For it seems as though
It was a hundred years ago
When this field was blazed
And this  town was razed

In reality, however,
It was only a mere year
When this field was attacked
And into corners
Everyone was packed

They played games here
And chased their dogs here
And told stories here
And laughed
And still do

Therefore, it does not seem real
Out of the blue
A dream, a mirage
A lie
A moment
Trapped in history

Yet it happened here
This very field
This previous year
As I walk to
My meeting