Inspection At A Unit Near To The Bluff Poem by Gert Strydom

From wall to wall
beds are lined up in rows,
with polished shining floors,
grey metal cupboards of which the doors
shine clean in the dim light
and troops come to attention
in exact unison
while packing out inspection commences
with the clock at four a.m.
and on the beds everything is square
ironed to neat perfection
and every uniform with pleats ironed in

and outside in the stark early morning light
a gull cries from the sky,
the waves crash thundering at high tide
on South Beach, North Beach
and even at Country Club
while the RSM's eyes are razor sharp
and like laser beams
cut through the troops in front of us.