A letter from John Morrin, Royal Air Force base, Aden
 

                           Khormaksar, 28th October 1949.
The heat in this place thins the blood.
The doctor says watch out for colds
for six months after going home.
We've a church on camp for Mass
on days of obligation. At night
the Irish fellows say a Rosary.
How are prices at home this year?
Will fattened cattle hold their own?
Demand was not great at Ballsbridge I'm told.
Your letter was the first I heard
about that man's brother going missing.
Perhaps he'll turn up safe somewhere,
though it looks as if the Guards in Naas
are holding out no hope of that.
A lad who crashed-landed in the desert here,
was stripped and killed by the natives. I hope
your winter won't be too severe.
I reckon fodder will be scarce,
you will need as much as you can buy
without being burdened with cattle of mine.
It was good of you to keep them for me.
Have you any photos of our old place?
I think of it often out here. It's so hot
I hardly need to lick the stamp.
If I could have them just to see
I'd post them to you by return.
The ones of Lil, yourself, Pat,
made me anxious to be back.

Published in The Blue Guitar (Salmon Poetry 2011) and Stand (2008)
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