OK.
I'll conclude with this one.
It's called "Night Scene Before Combat."
"There are trucks going down our street tonight in convoy.
The window rattles.
There are lights going off and on in the sky
beyond the suburbs, accompanied by noises
that sound like thunder.
I should be with them, but I try to get some sleep with you.
Did you know that metaphor means truck in modern Greek?
Truck.
Carryall.
It figures.
As William Blake said, eternity is in love with us
creations of time.
And you know about love, not just the weapons and battles,
but the problems of supply, logistics,
of getting the material to the front,
to the precise point of fire in trucks.
At that point of place, at this point in time
when the lights are flashing on and off,
and what might sound like thunder is not thunder.
Not thunder at all.
I should go downstairs and join my outfit.
I should get back to the truck I left idling by the curb,
but I turned to you for one last time in sleep, love,
before I put my uniform back on, check my piece
and say so long."
OK.
That's it.
Thank you for your attention.
[CLAPPING]