Winter Solace

There’s solace in the wind that holds me tight.

It settles deep within and through my veins.

I welcome crystal lashes sure to wane. 

The winter waves implore my pause with sights

unseen by those whose lives cannot remain.

There’s solace in the wind that holds me tight.

It settles deep within and through my veins.

The spirit breeze consoles my day and night.

Though layered threads will warm my body’s pain,

and though my lungs are tugged and breaths are strained,

there’s solace in the wind that holds me tight.

It settles deep within and through my veins.

I welcome crystal lashes sure to wane. 

Autumn's Myth

The Hours pass along with dance and sing

beneath the blood moon’s night and harvest days.

They frolic free in clapping leaves that stray.

‘Round and ‘round, a Maypole memory,

their skirts are stirred by Boreas’ rage.

The Hours pass along with dance and sing

beneath the blood moon’s night and harvest days.

“Oh, hold your breath!” cries Justice from the strings

of gossamer where Order hides in play.

“No need to howl,” laments poor Peace; she caves.

The Hours pass along with dance and sing

beneath the blood moon’s night and harvest days.

They frolic free in clapping leaves that stray.