Blessed nightmares
ghouls and phantoms of
crystalised snow storms
that swirl around me
and catch my breath

it frosts
silent in the
winter's air
all stiffened in the
brittle wind
daring not to
move
holding the
spine straight
and
back still
cursed by the
fright
of waking the
monsters deep
within

laughter echoes
along the empty moors
grasses swaying stiffly
reluctant to dance
in the forceful wind
the high and roiling sound
rolls over the
curling hills
and down into
the
curdled bellies
of those
listening in

they sway
like porcelin dolls
crooked and cracked
solid and balanced
faces reflecting the
unforgiving light
that shines like
torch beams against the
soft nectar of their
pupils

they dance
the winter chalice
lips parted
as haunted
mellowed
tunes
fall from their tongues
and
soak into the
sodden soil
with
the desire
of
warmth

their fingers flush with cold
shivering
quivering
ever so slightly
as the
turrets of storm
pick up
and the
roaring of the
turbines
crackle their
clinking bones
against themselves
they clang
like rust
in the
bleak winter sun
hallowed hearts
beating
by force of nature
and
not
by choice.