Black branches laden heavy there with snow,
The silent pines like sentinels do stand,
Barring entrance to all that dare to go,
A fearsome fortress; breach us if you can!
Yet not so awful to a wounded heart;
Those moveless darkling dragoons etched in ice
Whose frozen silver daggers there comport
Phantasmal menace to the coming night.
Yet of this menace I now have no fear
For in their ranks I know sweet death must live;
These daunting horsemen now my heart’s compeer
Whose breakless bonds some solace here do give.
In frigid darkness yet some warmth I see,
And in their midst, some winsome hope for me.
© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.