Morning Walk

Splash and stumble through the darkness
Slip and struggle though the mud
Trip and fall, and rise: trudge on.

Harsh shouts, and now and again,
the thud of rifle butt
on flesh and bone.

Overhead, the dark of the sky is relieved
with pinpoints of light. A covert whisper.
"Thank God our wives can't see us now!"

Splash and stumble through the darkness
Slip and struggle though the dirt
Trip and fall and rise to trudge on.

In the gloom, a vision unfolds.
Happy times and the well-loved voice
and face shine forth.

The faint pink
of the spreading dawn goes unseen;
Something sings

within the heart
so that one may reasonably ask:
"what does it matter that I

Slip and stumble through the darkness
And splash and struggle though the dirt
And trip and fall and rise only to trudge on?"