TUG O’ WAR

An icy stare raises the hackles of an approaching lover.

Cold, slender, winter fingers grip the Earth firmly, refusing to give up ground.

Warm winds wind their way around, caressing, stroking, pleading.

“Give up the disputed property – your lease is expiring.”

Her grip tightens with frigid urgency – “NO!  This is still mine!”

A long, unyielding embrace of the Earth chills to the bone.

The lover’s hot temper flares as he reaches out with

Desire to what is rightfully his, with swirling winds and lightning cracking.

A shrieking gale flattens the

Earth as the woman releases her fury - 

“Never!  Never will I give up what is rightfully mine!”

Enough.  Steady, radiating, relentless heat pulsates through in 

Waves of shimmering warmth.  Melting, softening – releasing resistance.

Spent, the woman opens her hands and blows the Earth a farewell kiss.

She recedes to her hidden places to rest and regain strength for the autumnal fight.