practice killing

four fighter jets
scream by,
they roar
low and loud
over the beach.
it makes everything shake,
even the sand
under our feet
vibrates.
everyone puts down their
book, cranes
their neck to watch.
the children point
with short arms.
it's
practice
killing, in formation.
hardly a few seconds
go by
before they're gone
a puff of white
behind them.
the muscle flexed we
go back to our reading,
the children go back
to building castles
in the sand,
finding shells.