November 5, 2016 by phicks2012
A friend on-line who writes poetry and short stories, and who shares them with me on occasion, said the other day that he was “waiting for winter” and hastened to assure me that this was not “the name of a Band”, though he thought it would make an excellent one. I had to agree, but we decided that it would also make a good name for a poem — assuming that one of use rose to the challenge of writing the verse.
I beat him to it, and here it is below. I hope that some of you, including my friend, will enjoy it. I will also be publishing it in our SCA newsletter, The Equinox.
Waiting for Winter
In silvered gown, she waits beyond the hills
Where Autumn’s vibrant flowing cloak is spread,
And sings a song of peace when birdsong stills,
And wears a crown of ice upon her head.
Upon a frosted carpet walking there
In crystal slippers, mantled all in white,
Her star-spun tresses flowing on the air,
She waits, all patiently, just out of sight.
She tats her counterpane of snowflake lace,
To spread upon the forest and the mead,
When time is come to take fair Autumn’s place,
And she comes riding on an argent steed.
And we await her coming, silently,
With Autumn’s bright-hued glory spreading wide,
All golden over forest, lake and lea,
With all the world adorned and glorified.
Fair beyond visions, marvelous and yet
Her silvered sister wears as fair a guise.
And we in silence stand in Autumn’s debt,
Just waiting there for Winter to arise.
[17 October, A.S. LI, 2016]