The Crown of Winter

This bleakness crawls in upon thumb and nail,        
bleats across barren Moor,          
bares teeth and breaks bones of foals.          
Rain falls, it beats fists on wide, heavy dust.          
         
Fire burns in houses of able,          
songs from choirs of blanched trees.          
Hibernation burrows deep into accepting brains,          
borrowing coats and boots to walk          
in blinding sun to collect berries and binds.         
         
He invites fallen branches home, carries on shoulder,          
uses ash-black secateurs to slice his bounty,          
decorates tables and ties boughs.        
Presents for present bodies    
who join the table as he bakes the bread.           
There is a humbling celebration of long, shared blood        
deep within the lair a-blazing      
on joy and wisdom and life.