Transition

A lone snowflake glides stealthily
through the late autumn mists,
scouting the barren territory
for the incoming invasion force

It floats to the ground
& fades into its surroundings,
reporting to the commander of the white army --
"the enemy is unaware of its imminent danger"

Additional squads of glittery commandos
leap from their silent aircraft
& link up at the scout's position
as the tension mounts

Suddenly the distant treetops disappear
behind a thick curtain of parachutes;
Wave after wave descends
until the ground is covered with troops

The enemy scatters in terror,
sliding, falling, crashing into each other;
Slowly they mount a tentative defense,
torturously pushing back the invaders

But it's all for naught,
unprepared as they were
They can only stare in horror
at the icy blanket of white

What had they done to deserve this?
Seems it was only yesterday
they were enjoying Thanksgiving feasts,
strolling through sunny, brightly colored groves

Now they were virtual prisoners
in a cold, gray, inhospitable foreign land -
mentioned only in nervous whispers -
the land known as Invierno!