It is morning. I glance up at the sky
I nod to her, acknowledging that she
knows the weather better than I

Our duels are unforgiving
She is graceful in her delivery
And I am left shoveling up the remains

Her coldness no match for my warmth,
my skilled hand. I create a path, boots
Weighted against the latticed snow

I remind her that though she has
a power to wield, I have my own

Perseverance.