He lay there in the rain, unmoving,
blending in under a cam sheet
swathing his whole body length
from crown to the very tip of feet.
Cocooned in his own dry world
he heard the vehicle draw near,
laid one eye against his scope,
slight shiver, anticipation not fear
as he took up the strap tension
so he and the weapon became one.
A fixed entity controlled yet easy,
until the squeeze and, bullet gone,
carrying its message of change,
he swiftly methodically withdrew;
not needing to check, confident
his weapon had shot right and true.
Down the road the chaos reigned
as through a shattered windscreen
all stared in abject horror and fear
at the dead leader that had been.
The revolution had started, prompted
by a stranger from an unfriendly land,
waiting to see if things went as hoped
to maybe offer a cautious helping hand.
Sitting alone in a different country
he saw the news later that night,
savouring the T bone steak cooked
oozing blood rare, and just right.