Winter tales, dancing upon the frozen ground
Hear the echo howl,
Wolf’s moon suspended in the black sky.
Ghosts whisper from the graveyards,
Calling any who stray,
Knowing the sun doesn’t shine today.
We’ve come full round,
In orbital symphony.
A newborn cries,
Winter’s come,
And it’s turned cold in the land.
Her delicate, deadly fingers have reached
Across the ground,
Reminding us it’s a time of rest and death,
Before the pangs of birth kiss the sky.
Jan 5
Jan 5, 2026 at 2:54 PM UTC
Winter tales, dancing upon the frozen ground
Hear the echo howl,
Wolf’s moon suspended in the black sky.
Ghosts whisper from the graveyards,
Calling any who stray,
Knowing the sun doesn’t shine today.
We’ve come full round,
In orbital symphony.
A newborn cries,
Winter’s come,
And it’s turned cold in the land.
Her delicate, deadly fingers have reached
Across the ground,
Reminding us it’s a time of rest and death,
Before the pangs of birth kiss the sky.