Withstanding (Poetry)

Old poems pile like sandbags
against the threatened storm
we’re lonely on an island
rubbing words to keep us warm

Clouds rank their gloomy army
to deny November sun
a shaft of light into the room
sly Winter’s seige begun

Thin spines of books rank silent
they have no taste for war
but gather dust in sorrow
truth long-buried in their corps

Brave fiction breeds more fiction
to withstand the sterile night
while love disarms the killer
draining every urge to fight

Quite soon the sentry’s nodding
dreams cocooned in drifts of snow
while shadows crowd to parlez
and preserve the status quo