by Paul Roe

Created on: March 22, 2010

The midmorning sprites
Set up their cannons
In opposing meadows,
And prepared to fight,
Loading their guns
With scores of opaque globes.

Images swirled inside
The spheres fired at foes:
They splashed watery scenes
And translucent tides
On targeted groves
And glossed them with a gleam.

By noon, cannonballs
Had shrunk to peas,
So the sprites wielded
Reeds and straws.
Mortars were obsolete
Without balls, and were no longer fielded.

Vapor chords rose
Like layered waves
Of organ music,
Piping proud odes
For all the fair fays
And the winning sprites' weapon tactics.

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