War is in the air but for now the year is content

to stretch out is tentacles

and feel the Northern sun warm the soul

and the days to become ones of bliss,

of harvesting the rewards

of bounty and the food

that will sustain the people under

Weodmonath’s care.

 

The gladiolus bloom everywhere

she looks and her charm, tempered by

anger of Solmanath’s revenge like fury

on her previous troubled psyche, is still…

 

Deep in the heart of her bosom though