The Drift of the Hunt
It’s strange that I don’t know if this moment is real,
Suddenly time stops and gravity sits still.
The howling winds are now quiet,
and I no longer feel,
the blistering frost on my toes and my heels.
In front of my eyes lies a light in the cold,
the first fallen flake of this winter’s snow.
It’s sparkle in the darkness illuminates my path
in silence it calls to me.
As curiosity often calls to the cat.
The glow of the dance of the snow says to come,
and quickly i’m lost in the drift of the hunt.
On the Eve of Christmas, thou did’st create
that enchanted snowflake that now holds my fate.
Forever i’m doomed to carry in strife,
the thrill of the chase of the first ring of ice.
A symmetrical ruler of the primal cold,
O fostering power thine first fallen of snow.
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