Untitled 2
Bustling winds grow, congealing the path.
Turrets rise to block the way out of dang'r.
Howling voices cry out to turn back its wrath.
Will 't be felt with power that can stagg'r?
Standing ground that has swept away others.
The tender bow of Jimson weed and willow,
Bend and stay strong though they curse its pressure.
How can another tear up strong roots life?
-Anna 5/21/98