Feathery snow on tree bough gently shades,
the closing dark, wind through silent oak,
shadow’s stretch reaching o’er the twilight glades
an ever constant curdling chill evoke!
Frozen cheek, bitter cold and deadly still
lest fear betray the haven of the night,
she lay in wait clung tight to earthly strand
of hope. Terror stalking, a white heart’s shrill
pumping, a mind succumbing to her plight,
dagger, numb, in the clutches of her hand…
…Torchlight stalking, diffused on canvass white,
encroaching through the shafts of oaken trunk.
Approaching hooves bathed in powdery light.
Moonlight culled from whence the dancing light drunk.
Resistance from King Philip abated,
egregious thirst in madness, pursuant
of the remaining few who willed to stand.
Cold drawn steel and heartless lust not sated,
he hunted human prey. Riding fluent,
musket poised, in the cradle of his hand…
…Dawn woke the land with stealthy sullen reach,
vitriolic blanket of smoke and ash,
dull leaden skies of pallid solar breach,
snow coated in a frosted dull grey rash.
Alight with cautious striding steps beware,
paid heed lest lurking trouble try aggress,
the forest floor with weary eyes she scanned.
A mother’s anguish, recognized that there
sat her child; a reflection of distress,
dagger, still, frozen in her cold dead hand.