The pale orb of the sun
Rises above a field of white,
Snowflakes fall,
Like arrows of heaven’s purity,
To look upon a dark battlefield.
Red and Gold form into ranks,
The shouts of men,
The crunch of ice,
Heralds the impending doom,
Of men uncountable.
An army to oppose that force,
Similarly arrayed, and standing ready,
Blue and Green in the lightening west.
A Phalanx of fodder for the war machine,
The war machine of leaders far away.
A sudden stillness descends
Upon the field of glimmering white,
Harsh blowing wind, cools the breath
Of the waiting soldiers;
Cooling their hearts in anticipation of war.
Voices murmur, in blue and green.
The force moves out across the fields,
To where red and gold await.
A voice calls out in Red and Gold,
A volley of arrows launch, to seek their targets.
Blue and Green and snowy white
Turned red as arrows find their marks.
Bodies fall into the snow,
Cushioning their deadly fall,
With the mingling of blood and snow.
