A single Dakota flew overhead,
Cutting through clouds darkening overhead.
More were expected but only one came,
Drone of engines working hard overhead.
Poor conditions threaten old aeroplanes,
So risk is reduced for those overhead.
Hence the solitary appearance,
Of the wartime visitor overhead.
And I expectant, eyes glued to the sky,
Watched both wings of death passing overhead.
Steel tipped and fearsome the arrows in flight,
Fired by bowmen on an aggressive flight.
Helmets and armour gave poor protection,
Against sharpened heads directed in flight.
Enemy heads cowered beneath the hail,
Of pointed missiles descending in flight.
Havoc on impact destroyed resistance,
No hiding place from this terrible flight.
Centuries later in a museum,
I studied grim fragments from the same flight.