White flakes begin their dance
Swirling around
Guided by the wind.
The snowplow,
Powerful and graceless,
Returns.
Another layer of snow
Is added to the growing tower,
The tower will become
My castle.

Queen of the pile,
That's what I am.
No one challenges my rule
Nor do they dare oppose,
But the night closes in.
No lights penetrate
The blackness of the night.
There is nothing
But the great outdoors.
Proud of my conquest,
I scan my kingdom.
A black figure materializes,
Not a sound he makes,
Startling me.
Who is this challenger,
With glowing yellow eyes
That appears on a nearby hill?
Watching.
Waiting.
Yearning to strike.

Never again will I be
Queen of the pile,
At least not alone.
I'll leave that
To the dogs.