Festooned with the heraldry of doom,
a gilded, wainscoted room,
whose occupants drink ale in an oozing swarm
while harpers harp a solemn tune.
The lioness gives obeisance to the new king
with an offering
of suffering,
and warm droplets of water...
Two fates inseparably soldered
by misfortune,
on this, the longest night
then toward the light
and not beyond.
Again, backwards, repetition, turning.
A yule tide with no pull
from the heavenly orb, burning.