I have the day off todaySitting in the barracks, I rest
Till I am called out again
To fight this war and give my best.
My make-shift home, a tent
Where I live, sweat, wake and sleep.
Plywood floor, wind blows hot,
Lonely hour, then day turns into week. ...............................*
I sit outside the tent door flap
And sift the sand with my hand................*...............*
I pick it up and let it fall
Imagining I'm home again. ...........*
....................................................................................................*
The sand becomes a snowfall
That I saw there just last year. .......................*
Riding snowmachines in the hills,
Who ever imagined that now I'd be here? ...........*
I let myself go back there for a ride. ........*
In my mind's eye I see the snow
Clinging to the exact leafless shape
Of every other tree along the road. ....................*
.................................................................................................*
The rest are evergreens, holding piles
Of snow like a Christmas card scene. ...........*
Those memories and hopes to return
Are the contents of my each and every dream.
The dry, brisk cold of the air .........................................*
Invigorates my skin and burns my eyes.
I plow thorough deep drifts of snow
Riding on trails that I have memorized. ......*
The beauty of the landscape grips me..............................*
The temperature, now minus 10, not a breeze
Looks like someone carelessly cast diamonds ........................*
On the ground and in the trees.
Dashing back to the winter cabin, ........................*
My brothers and I, we race.
We head inside, take off our gear, .............................*
See the smile on my mom's face. .................................................*
"Hey guys, d'ya see moose along the trail?
Was it cold? How was the ride? " ....................*
Putting aside her book she asks,
"Who's up for hot chocolate, soup or pumpkin pie?"..................*
The whistle of mortars brings me back. *
Dashing to protect from shrapnel rain, ...................*
Instinct kicks in - I drop my handful of sand ............................*
And I become an American soldier again. ...................*
Kimberlie Coreson
Mother of PVT2 Jacob Coreson
72nd Engineer Co., 1EN BN
FOB Warhorse APO AE 09336
