Steam rises gently off of grates,

filling the cold morning darkness—

My rifle’s slapping resonates.

-

The winter’s chill saturates

my uniform, a frosty caress—

unlike yours—steam drifts off grates.

-

My nearly frozen hand hates

every stiff movement—move less!—

My rifle’s slapping resonates.

-

Strict focus dissipates,

lost in visions' excess.

Dreams billow out of grates.

-

Thud! against stone violates

day-dream quietness.

My rifle’s slapping resonates.

-

Heels' clicking dominates

the dark morning frostiness,

dreams drift gently out of grates—

my rifle—dropping—resonates.