The helicopter passed low, overhead.
A minute or two passed and it returned, following the same track, but across a bit.
Hunting.
I know the technique.
And in the time it takes to think of making a cuppa, it returns, and hovers not far off.
"I am here..." announces the low drone of the engines.
Cold comfort.
What you're looking for is on the ground.
And I'm on the ground...
I remember a place where helicopters hovered day and night.
And boys, barely men, in uniforms, with armalite rifles stared blankly
or asked for papers, and told you to move on.
Though it ended in peace and the helicopters moved on,
so, sadly, did the war, to other places.
The same old "reasons", the same old waste.
Once, I was a boy, barely a man, filled with hopes of a better world.
But now I'm sounding maudlin, ha ha.
It didn't work out the way I'd thought, but that doesn't matter.
I made a part of the world a better place.
There's only so much that you can do with one pair of hands.
🙂
