The autumn wind

Be to me the autumn wind
With scent of smoke and cinnamon
Soothe the burning of my skin
And free me from the grip of sin

Be the dawning crest of sun
Whose waning light has just begun
Gently kiss my frosted cheek
To make me strong and leave me weak

Bring to me a gift of gold
As in the ancient stories told
Hold me tight against your breast
And cover me so I may rest 

Wake me when the light returns
But not until its brightness burns
For only through its righteous pain
Shall I know I live again

A wake of frost

The sun is warm
The wind is cold
The day is young
The season old

The vine has withered
Growing mold
The kings are wrapped
In cloaks of gold

A feast is shared
‘mongst family, friends
Ere in a hush
The vale descends

As spirits lifted
From the ground
Are freed from whence
They had been bound 

Upon their trail
A wake of frost
A memory
Of what was lost

Watch it burn

I sit and watch the forest burn
With little heed and no concern
The colors keep me in a trance
While they flicker, sway, and dance

I watch as embers fly and fall
And hear the raven’s warning call
And yet unmoved I sit and stare
While breathing in the smoky air

Until the flames have all consumed
The forest, being amply groomed
No longer holds me in a thrall
And frees me from the siren’s call

Some find it supernatural
Yet others simply rational
To me, it is a work of art
Which frees the mind and snares the heart