Upon the northern marches
a cold wind blows a warning
The birds and beast heed only
searching out nests and holes
and all around the mountains
where mist covers valleys
And trees are bent sentries
The clouds shift over the sun
And build far up into the sky
A south wind dances wildly
smelling of warm sun
with memories of cinnamon
Chased off by the northern gale
which brings the first march
through the valleys deep
and over the mountains high
While off to the South another
gathers in strength to meet it
Again the South wind taunts
And again the North wind answers
Slowly the two giant clouds gather
Sit on the top of the mountain ring
hover over the valley
over which the battle will unfold
The Southern group, folds itself up
and whips up to the west
blocking the sun's late day light
while the North flanks to the east
Together they crash and fight
they mount higher up the sky
darkness covers the valley
its grasses follow the dancing winds
which whorl and crash together
Rain floods down, blood or tears
of the great beast fighting above
Together they fight, until one cloud
One huge beast emerges.
South becomes North
North becomes South
The torment inside unseen only felt
Till off to the South the winds dance
And the beast, the giant
moves to follow them.
Across the mountains it marches
its wind laughing in terror or jest
Behind the terror of the battle
lessens, as it moves away
the mists again gather
and cover the damage
a white cloud, a ghost
which knows well what
has happened in the sky
the mountains are unmoved
the valleys deeper or wetter
gather the mists as a blanket
and a soft eastern wind
caresses the fallen guard trees
calls the beast from their holes, nests
Well upon the Northern marches
a lonely northern wind calls
crys for its fallen brethren
sings for the many fallen
foretells the battles to come.
No comments:
Post a Comment