Sentinels of Spring
Shovels poised in frozen arms they stand
Noiselessly and guard the homeward paths ––
Obese, rotund, avuncular. The land
White around them drifts like bubble baths,
Moving not, however, as those do.
Enisled in sparkling crystal’s frozen mass
No one of them a mate will e’er pursue.
Stoically poised above the grass
Panda-like with eyes of coal they wait
Impassively, and do not even flinch,
Recoil or shrink at barbarous crimes of hate.
Instead, they wait for warmth, then inch by inch
Tired, shrinking, soundless mix with mud
Soberly to join the Springtime Flood.
~ FreeThinke - The Sandpiper - Spring 1996