The battlefield fog’s denseness
Lightens at sunrise.
The moon’s light added unease and butterflies,
But the sun’s provides clarity;
I see the enemy’s positions:
Between the trees and in the bunkers, rifles are ready
To shred the regiment.
But the sun pick-pocketed their edge
And gave us a path to victory;
The fog is still there, but clear now.
.Will I advance to the objective
Or bow out in the bog of fear?