A prophet of woe and mischance?
My big white ghost that watches me.
Flies beside in the icy rain,
roe deer running with us in the dark,
to see me home.

It gave that dread unearthly shriek,
Christmas night in the forest, no fright.
Tonight it flew through cars and frost,
to pause at the window as we drove.
To satisfy itself.

No ill omen, no destiny of fear.
Just a spirit,
finding me a course to steer.
Staying near.

He was wrong,
I doubt he ever saw one.