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Poem

The cold wet earth clings to my boots
The scent of wet soil draws memories
Visions of the past , scenes from my boyhood
Flicker in my thoughts.
Buds of sweat drips their cold journey down my spine
As I lay entranced and entrenched upon a hillside
Waiting the timeless wait for the next target

Here upon this accursed pass, we floundered
Here upon this barren land men fell dead 
Friends and comrades, brothers in arms
Others  still clutching their weapons 
Others in muted prayer laying where they fell
Kissing the cold earth now seared in black and red
The hues of death , the shadows of fate.

Here as I await the enemy’s passage
Here as this hill may be my burial mound
But I will not shudder nor fear the dread
that fear itself rains upon me
for I was trained to be steadfast
my valor , my strength , my courage 
is needed now, more than ever by my Country.

Unaware of the danger, caught in the cross-hairs
Of my scope ,the target , a general stands tall
The glow of an emblem upon his hat 
Temporarily blinding, yet a clear target he still is
Slowly gripping the trigger, affixing my stance
Feeling the direction of the breeze , the scent of wet soil
Cold sweat down my spine as I gently squeeze the trigger.

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