Mythic Winter Solstice
Within the misty late year's forestIn times when slouds
and trees stand emptyNine thousand wolves are gathered in
the snowTo raise a long and greyish howl.Ebony black the
earth went into the nightRe-awoken, covered now in silver
whiteSoftly veiled by sparking moistureOut of the wolwes
' throats up to the sky.Lap of sunrise sweated by birth
painsits child - a cold red fireballSharp silhouettes of
old and tired eyesTheir cradle stuffed with leaves and
fog.Impossible to march the shortest way todayCome forth
tied up all in wolwes' breathEarly , therefore , the
evening approachesit is the time of Winter Soltice.
