Monday, March 25, 2013

Opposing Forces

Slewing east wind over quivering bough makes drifts of snow into the walkway
A howling storm on spring’s tail to chase her dream of conquest into the shadows
For no alliance can win this war; one force must be spent utterly if the other prevails
In this battle I took you for a walk and your short legs were full hidden in the snow.
You become a white, woolly worm valiantly thrusting through winter’s belated blizzard
No quisling* attached to the hearth are you my faithful comrade; Let us walk some more

 *Quisling - A traitor, especially somebody who collaborates with an occupying force