It is here men dig
and dive under the earth
to dream
like
moths
of who will be
the Winter King
Stones are set in rings of fire
spirals gaze up at the stars
wishing they were closer
Dense forests hide groves
tended by maidens
with limbs
carved
from moonstone
watching Crones
weave the destiny of kingdoms
from the wombs of mothers
writhing on sheepskins
in the dark corners of huts
While out on the chalk downs
eldest sons
with
swords raised
wait to see which of their fathers
will burst forth from the mound
© 2009 Persephone Vandegrift
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