Snaw-feallan

White blanket scattered,

tattered upon the frozen knells,

where the silent wood-aelf dwells,

 

bounding o’er the hilltops.

Dewdrops turn to glass,

silent while travelers pass.

 

Gently gliding frost-dust,

Gusting among the barren trees

Carried along by biting breeze

 

through a welcoming court-geard –

starlight guiding the crystal ash

that softens the windward lash.

© 2017 Fynland Arkwood. All rights reserved.

 

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