Slewing east wind over quivering bough makes drifts of snow into the walkwayA 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