December 1: Angorath
Quiet morn lain brisk and slow
Nights wane longer, flights fly low
White frost billows cast the snow
Winter saunters, and ends the show
Laughter drips in star-crossed glee
Droves of wonder, eyeless sea
Fruits of time in berry tree
Frozen thunder, a buzzing bee
Slouching onward snowcap forms
Fur clad safety, softly warm
Howl the moon then wake the morn
Clatter hoofbeat, a ramming horn
Stoking blaze once crackled high
Smoke-rock campground, kindling dry
Buttered chocolate served with sigh
Huddled newborn, a cheerful cry
Ghost and grayfolk dance the rain
Swing these lovers, known no pain
Barefoot chill-heart hunger flame
Sweat amore, locked in twain
This is the end
This is the end
But this is the pulse
Where beats begin
Ladies’ elder faith restored
Worlds remembered
Time ignored
Herald six with last uproar:
“Our November!”
And nothing more.