Mercenary warriors, paid to fight through
Nature’s come what may,
Like watch springs,
Wind tighter with each passing second.

Then exploding force on force
Livid eyes pierce souls,
To find the other’s weakness,
As they collide.

Frantic hand to hand collision,
Through mud, against muscle,
Each gains then loses balance,
In the ooze.

Frigid breath clouds,
Tattered by sleet streaks,
Halo grunting,
Lunging bodies.

Sunday’s clean pressed uniforms,
Long since succumbed,
To sod stained smears,
Now look alike.

Melting snow and flowing rain
Streak steaming bodies
As brute force fails
In friction free acceleration.

Each gaining,
Losing footing
In the mud,
Until a whistle blows.

Then kneeling on all fours,
They pant like hounds at bay,
Then rise,
To start again.

 

FOURTH AND ONE