(The moons of December, January
and February were once known by our
forebears respectively as Long Night or
Cold Moon, Wolf or Storm Moon, and Snow Moon)
Cold moons of winter
The wolf and the storm
Ice crystals splinter
The long night is born
Grey shadows lope
Over the snow
Yet still there is hope
Though fires burn low.
There is an ancient feel in this fire. This a shaman's poem. Loved it. Julia
And what poetic incantation, Peter! We are bewitched. I found myself reading it again and again, aloud. This is going to be my lullaby. Ten and a favourite. Susie.
Above all I like the poem's hopeful finish. Cracking write, Peter. And in answer to your question on 'Kiss My...', about 2 hours in the making altogether with a lot of chopping and changing. Warm regards and a score of 10 from Gina.
Let the air strike our tune, Whilst we show reverence to yond peeping moon. Cool poem Pete. Loved it. Peace
A very Arctic subject here, Peter, Made me feel very nippy and chilled. Very well done with good imagery. Very nice write. Loved it. Love Ernestine XXX
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
The moon remains a mystery through all its winters, time out of mind. Praise for your lovely poem. Regards, Sandra Fowler