The generator’s drone,
cuts the cold air,
to manifest in a low bass
on the steel shelter.

Inside, night’s blackness
gives way to an
infrared mosaic
of an ancient village.

With raw hands, cracked
from salt and blood,
he touches the controls
to focus.

The screen alive
with women at ease,
while men gather
for prayer in the pre-dawn.

He scans now to a field,
that dances in frost wind.
Poppy floating
west to the bare desert

where the sun begins
to sprout from high dunes.
Soon to flood the land
with harsh light.

Contrasts the soldier waking up and the villagers waking up, both delicate and brutal, Jack. The layers of watcher and watched - he, they, you, us - sobering. Tom

Jack, front page NY Times today, story about soldier/writers today.

This is so good.

Excellent job, Jack.

cheryl

Thanks Tom I appreciate it. I read "Here, Bullet" over and over again while I was deployed and it defiantly inspired me to begin writing.Thanks again.

jack a deafening still read.  the presented perspectives transition well.  don't think you need those two comas in L1-2, also in S5 i think you could drop that "now".  enjoying this read jack. lawrence

Brilliantly told, Jack, no unecessary frills. A pick.

milner