kin & kindling

what precious little thing
it must be protecting
by charging at me

to risk crumbling
by silver bullet and freezing wind

could this be called a haven,
a place where monsters sleep
and hide from decree

and thus must it be squashed,
pried open and filled in

for what resembles inconspicuous kin
im told must be set ablaze
and destroyed by necessity

walking the summer trail
and flipping the damp slab