The Minotaur, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

The Minotaur

The flag struggles as if to fly away
While the trees shake back and forth at their roots
Somersaulting leaves look if they’re at play
Huddling cows yet to put on winter suits
Coal dust colored clouds grumble on their way
As small furry creatures go down their chutes
What a horrific sight is on display
Anything in its way it persecutes

The great north winds I have lived through before
From its meanness there will be no relief
It’s banging and banging at my front door
To get inside to deliver its grief
The sound it makes signifies we’re at war
Showing anger its visit won’t be brief
Again we’re visited by Minotaur

He unleashes anger throughout the night
First beating rain then turning into snow
With each passing hour more fear does ignite
As wind pushes snow into mountains they grow
The sun forces itself through the clouds with light
Those who burst out to freedom don’t wallow
But attempt to control continued fright
For the winds did cease just moments ago

How much damage did he leave in his wake
Depends on his anger in his visit
For he takes whatever he wants to take
Their lives some unwillingly shall forfeit
From his visit there’s sure to be heartbreak
What he leaves behind there is no merit
His horror is what’s kept as a keepsake
There is someone who will never forget