The sun has gone down behind the great hills

Where were you, tiny herald

when heaved the dying breath

molten gold through the air

that echoed mourning

in lost tender notes

They paused to listen

laid down hoes and sickle blades

returned final tremble tones

Slipped away through shadows

purple shapes that clung shifting

grew stronger as sun king fell

and all the world sunk back, hidden to

night goblins, creaked branches hung low

Tiny herald, your song was empty chords

taunted hollow through aching ears

post abandoned

You have banished royal host

to dark nights

shrinking days

Cold winds are blowing

all doors stopped up tight.