While the wind moaned
And rattled the windows
Where she lay in fevered dreams
Her watcher staying qui vive
Stopping to feel the forehead
Frowning at the temperature
And the need for assistance.
Snowbound in a crisis
Her intuition screaming
No slumber for the weary,
Or stopping to feed
The prize elusive as ever
Eluding her grip,
But there she is sure
So the vigil continues
Till the fever is broken!

Laura R
3-6-03