A frozen field in autumnal pain,
The bitter damp feels no remorse,
The pale sun pleads for mercy,
Her glancing blow a creeping glare
On the low, writhing horizon.
The darkened stare of night's embrace
Haunts the withering lichen face
Of darkened fields, the tundrid ice
Where naught a weary head may lie.
The northern lights submit no warmth,
Though they dance with frantic grace.
The sun surrenders futile heat
And retires to a safer place.
On the ice where the caribou roam,
Silence, a breath of frigid hope,
For gloaming creeps below the cold.
Though colder yet will winter be,
A dark embrace of misery
Beset only by dawning light.
Frigid hearts return to a thaw.