America is frozen—held fast in winter’s maw, her government held prisoner under a greedy claw. For any children but her own, her arms grown arch and cold. No room for diversity. No room for her to hold any but the richest, the whitest and the chosen. No room left in liberty for any but the frozen. “Give me your tired and your poor” relegated to the past by the chilling Nordic air that holds us in its blast.
The thaw that brings the blush of spring—the budding of the flower is held for ransom by the few who have usurped our power. Our ship of state held fast by ice, its sails still bravely strain to crack the ice and open up to justice once again. If they only had the power to billow they might start to bring us back to sanity and thaw each frozen heart. The poor would share the power that only the rich can buy and have their proper portion of the great American pie.
Prompt words today were thaw, power, sail and justice. Here are the links:
This day, alas, has dawned so hot I’ve no need to be where I’m not. I want to spend it where I can be exposed to ice and fan. Though I’m in need of countless things: foodstuffs, videos and rings, a hairbrush, pens and other stuff, I do not need them near enough to venture out into this heat. I’ll sit here in the catbird seat at least until the sun goes down, then venture out into the town.
I told my hail story so long ago that I had few followers and even I had forgotten about it, so perhaps you have, too. Or, if you are a relatively new reader, you probably haven’t seen it before. As a matter of fact, the only people currently following my blog who read it were Angloswiss, Ann, Allenda and my sister. (Hi, ladies)– so here it is again. Please go HERE to read it.