Under a bush hat

Under a bush hat
high up in a big tree
with my pack on my back
and strapped to a branch,
with a rifle in my hands
sleep crept up on me
really casually.

a Branch breaking at the bottom
brought me quickly back to reality
and I was astounded
to see a company of black men
armed with enemy weapons
passing without looking up.

Later it turned out to be
friendly forces,
being were they should not have been
but we could have drawn
friendly fire
and suffered casualties
and somehow a higher power
kept elite soldiers from detecting us.

poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!