Blue smoke and engine running.
In my head, I hear a thrumming
of harp and guitar going far into the distance
from where I survey the wreckage of my plane.
Goggles hanging around my neck and sheepskin liner
standard service issue pistol in my belt.
Queens regs over my heart in breast pocket
I take a cigarette from an anniversary tin
and light up blowing into the wind.
‘Jerry’s persistent, I’ll give him that’ I say and spit.
‘Say How Loooong till you get the jalopy running boy?’
raised eyebrow, said with a smile.
‘Let me at ’em’ says the ground service crew as more
seek the glory of the few.
Notice board says Service at 10:00 Sunday
Where we look. Bother upwards for once to slay the many
who come against us, the few, ha’penny muster on the field in a cluster.
Rain and hail bent we say amen to that and throw our helmets in the air
For death or glory!
And New Starts!