Infantile Trooper

Amidst the azure winter freeze

Blew an abandoned disarmed feather

I held her close in the weather

Asked, what’s her business in the breeze?


She flicked her tail in courtesy

Looked East, flapped her golden hair

Pointing towards the lost trail,

She said, she lived there

But soon came a giant hail

To trample her world of fantasy


“I now have plenty towns to roam,

Yet no place to call home

I meet strangers in the alley

And nomads in the valley


They offer to spend the night together

“Beware! There seems to be a cruel weather!”


In figures alien to my shape

I silently seek another me

While they dance around my drape

Asking, Is that she?


My screams scratch the saddle crate

I find bars around my plate

Duplicitous strangers, promised to build shed,

Elevated me on a pleasure dome, instead.


I bowed to the lord who once lived

In the zenith of my Eastern cell

I prayed for one last hail again,

To feed the stranger with dust and rain


I wished for the winds to blow,

and lead them to the Hades below

I called for my foster sister,

Autumn and Spring with brother Winter.


Brother told me, “Fly far away,

It ain’t a place for tender hay

Alone, abandoned, I flew with the wind

Until I met your callow skin.”


She fed on nuts and cracker

Famished by hunger

While I wonder,

Isn’t the bird a little me?

Her story echoes my journey,

Her fears and fences resonate my worry.

Isn’t she a little me?

Dejected and desolate, my reality?



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