Breathing Time

Flying local to Rzezów I noted the surface to air missile batteries surrounding the landing strip like points on a chronograph. On the drive to Przemyśl we passed precision convoys as far as the eye could see. Payload after payload delivered right on time.

I ate a meal to end all meals that afternoon in the pretty town square and spent the afternoon wondering round the handsome churches, too many to be boasted by such a small town. How many armies might have rolled through this edge of a point? Climbing a clock tower I looked through the moving hands to the level horizon border and held my breath as the bell tolled.