Also for Bob and Helen

The Blue Marauders

Out of the mist they come
on wings of Ice blue fire and steel
crested helmets gleaming in the first rays of dawn

Screeching searching seeking
the unsuspecting regiment
still lying in the trenches
in deep morning slumber

The attack comes swift now
nowhere to run

nowhere to hide

And in the end leaving a landscape
littered with the spoils of war

Only shells remain of the
gallant soldiers that once were

And once again an uneasy stillness
creeps over the land
and all is quiet on Little Walden Pond

For now