(after Bernard Odendaal)
The bush is silent
fear flies up with a black coot,
each weapon does train.
*
The radio screech
with its aerial tree high;
a meaningless halt.
*
Equipped with just
light skeleton type webbing;
the spoor becomes faint.
*
The sun burns hell hot,
the rifle, bullets are heavy;
we use the compass.
*
Boondock night is filled
with reconnoitre of the heart;
half ration tastes bad.
*
Without some water
in the scorching heat and wind,
the track disappears.
*
Like a dragonfly
a helicopter swoops down
and we leave the bush.
*
Cannot find hostiles!
In situation report:
still searching the heart.
[Reference:
