Wintersong

 

“ventis glacies adstricta pependit” – Ovid, Metamorphoses

 

As Winter broods on snowy peaks

strong waterfalls begin to freeze

a deer his fodder vainly seeks

and northern winds whip up the seas

 

The longest night beckons clear stars

that pierce the darkness glowing cold

beneath the muffling carpet, grass

has stopped growing all but old

 

A splintering icicle rends the quiet

the startled hind retreats in silvam

where dryads, hid from wind tossed riot,

of heroes sing and lyre strings strum

 

Arising, Luna shines her light

though wat’ry, weak and oft enshroud

tis comfort during callous nights

when Winter’s silence rages loud

 

ventis glacies adstricta pependit: The ice hangs, bound up by the wind

in silvam: into the forest

Spring I

Silver birches swaying blithely

winding coyly in the windy breeze;

broad-brimmed beeches blowing softly:

faithful, friendly forest-maidens.

 

Lilting laughter lightly carries,

while treemaids splash in spraying brook;

washing their hair in waterfalls sweet,

bathing in sunlight’s soft-clean warmth.

 

Master Sun is more than sanguine

shining through leaves and shoots so greenly,

making playful prancing shadows

sprinkling Greenwood in springtime light.

 

In the clearing, Oaking’s court is joyful

minstrel fauns sing morning hymns, while

river maids dance with ravishing movements

and larchmen lounge, leaves a-whispering

 

of quieter joys coursing, tingling

right through their veins, thanking the Maker

for the joy of Spring, splend’rous awakening

new life, new love – living, loving.