Winter

Once more I sense how time is fleeting
As at the window winter knocks
And we who will not pay for heating
Have learned to value quilts and socks.

Perhaps I should be less affected
By temperatures dropping low.
The stock this northern land selected
Was ever cozy in the snow.

When they set sail for something greater,
Like steel, drawn by magnetic dreams,
They were repelled by the Equator
And settled nearer the extremes.

It holds the strength that legends carry,
This hoary legacy of old,
And yet not all of me is merry,
Not all of me can stand the cold.

Outside, through Winter’s necromancing,
Dark spirits flutter fast and free.
Afar, through night too dark for prancing,
A regal buck stalks silently.

Then, with a vigor almost breezy,
He shakes the antlers from his head.
Would that old burdens were as easy
For human folk like me to shed.

And, with the buck in frost united,
His foe slinks like a gust nearby –
Grey Wolf in woodland blank and blighted
Beneath a barely different sky.

Cross land dyed black and white and markless,
His howl shames wind for force and length.
It tells of wintry cold and darkness,
Of warm grey fur and mighty strength.

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