In the jungles of Vietnam the ever-present sounds of Choppers in the air became a source

comfort to us. They were our protectors as well as our deliverers. These unmistakable giants

cared not whether the LZ was red or green, It made no difference when lives were on the line.

We knew we could depend on them. These men who flew and watched over the valleys and bullet riddled

ridges of war torn Southeast Asia knew the dangers of the air they flew, yet they still came. To the bloodied,

battle weary men of war the sound of chopper blades became the sound of hope. I dare say the sound

of  blades whipping through the air still means something different to each Vietnam Veteran today.  Eyes still

glance upward at the eerie sound of the Air wolf. Seen or unseen we knew they were  always near.

...The Watcher...

The watcher 

Protector of the canyon

.....subtle breath....

mistaken for the welcome

Evening breeze of summer.......

Overseer ..............................

 Companion of the ancient ones

Curious  by nature...............

.........Predatory by birthright

Strong defender of the clan...

Trespassers beware

.....On this unfamiliar ground

Acknowledge the power......

...Of the watcher...

.......Listen to the plaintiff cry

Lest it turn into the deep.......

...Guttural warning of sudden demise

For the domain of the sun....

.......And the red desert sand

Remains mystic to the stranger

Under the crooked sky............

.......Yet it is often the unfamiliarity

Of the seemingly familiar ............

...............That silences the proud

Seek his vision in the sunset........

.....Fear his cunning in the shadows

Respect his path in the wilderness.....

......Be still in the darkness................

.....And you shall know.....

Under the moon of the wolf

That your spirit

.............Never

Walks alone...

....Boondocker....