Ode to Winter Nights

Incessant winds amidst one’s memories –

Villainous howls from whence come wolves,

An’ winter winds whisper of atrocities –

Remembered where rots the last hunt.

Nearest the ice blackened, wind tattered groves

Rest on black ground, the spear end – blunt.

Yore the hunter did seek its prey,

Swathed in robes of black night and ice,

Led by nightly fiends, wandering astray.

Shades feast upon the daring, thrice.

Boreas doth blow bitter winds southward –

Prithee Notus greet with sun’s welcome warmth.

The wailing winds sing to the harpist’s chord,

Whilst the hunter prepares to strike,

The lady doth begin the dance of North.

The white stars dance in time alike

An’ betwixt the setting sun an’ Jack’s break

Doth the fulsome virgin lay rest.

Like stone the prey does fall to sleep awake –

At last man believes he be blessed.

Midst the Mother’s soulful wails an’ cold tears

One’s memory, become shadow,

Begun to fade away – to disappear.

A flightless bird – the fallen white –

Atop the lifeless – dead – icy meadow,

Did rest frozen in morning light.

Remainders of one’s memories lay cold,

An’ the hunter, buried, ne’er found

What sought he – the way to warm paradise.

Henceforth, he lay beneath the ground.

Incessant winds do quiet; hushing truth

An’ again it waits for the hunter’s youth.