WINTER KING
The ice now colder
taking even the ocean
advancing like an
army
occupying every free state.
We whisper, “No
more,”
but even that is
stolen
our breath frozen
solid
before the words are
spoken.
And still he comes
a crystalline
onslaught
as sharp as knives
and cutting deeper.
The builder of the
mountains
He who shapes the
land
the King with a
thousand swords
piercing silently
