Wind from the wings of the hovering gun ship,
swept the ground where they lay.
Warriors down prone upon the grass,
to keep the unwanted at bay.
Alert was their stance around and about,
with the slash of breech steel.
Amid the roar of the engine’s power,
and crunch of the Saracen wheel.
Enemy ready to flee at the end of a wire,
with heart elated and cold.
Pressed the contact as he looked down,
and watched death’s mantle unfold.
The beast of the desert lay on its side,
lifted and rolled o’er the ground.
Mental mangled and doors sprung ajar,
echoes the only sound.
Then I awoke with a jump and a start,
in the warmth of the morn.
Far away from the fields of my past,
where limb and flesh were torn.
Monty Alexander 23.6.98