Terry D. Sutherland

DINNER AT EIGHT

Their table was the jungle floor
With a center piece of jungle grass
C-Rations their reward
Amidst the sound of rockets blast

Their table cloth is a poncho
Their chairs are Asian mud
But, it’s better than eating on the go
Listening to mortars’ thud

Not a table set for kings
Not a romantic date for two
Grenade pins for napkin rings
A can of meat and vegetable stew

Crackers smeared with cheese spread
Peaches and pound cake for dessert
They only dream of buttered bread
And a clean and laundered shirt

Their guests are Hungry army ants
Crawling up their sweating arms
Infesting dirty fatigue pants
Looking for candy charms