Western November

Gunslinger cold rolls into town,
shoots down the leaves. Nests fall,
sap runs, water freezes. Owls call

other owls to the poker game of darkness.


The vole plays, too. There's no sitting out.
The vole won't play its cards right. It can't
but gamble and go all-in. An owl
swallows the pot. The vole dies,
a warm loser.

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wemni's picture

brutal....but great

brutal....but great metaphors.

allets's picture

The Game! The Game!

Love the pot eating owl - the gunslinger cold ---all my favorites. When is the Vole's funeral? I'd like to send poker chips. Fun read ~~~ Lady A