Author Information
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.
brutal....but great
brutal....but great metaphors.
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