WICKED

Written by: Victoria Anderson-Throop

                                                    WICKED

                                Where are the boundaries of man--
                                       Rocky mountains jostling to reach sky’s corner
                                       White crashing rivers leaping with spawning fish
                                Or , the secret frontiers of the heart

                                Which wind blows the wicked across my path?
	                               Fury Wind of the North—snow blinding
	                               Browsing South Wind—lilac scenting
                                Or, unguarded breezes yearning to burst free my yoke

                                Green is certain the ground beneath moon shadows
                                But Night secrets spread grey the carpet of my world.
                                Danger prances joker-heartless through our door at whim
                                None dare stop him—And his brother

                                Terror feeds the babes.

                                 


                                 Victoria Anderson-Throop ©