A Watch for Orion

What Glaciers Do to Mountains We as People Do Eachother

Falcons Wing
A storms' watch begins
With a face covered with ice
Dripping with frost

The hands with mitts and gloves
Raise to falcons' eyes
Lenses (binoculars) that pierce through
A hail of howling winds
To charter a course

For a lost sail
To follow
With hope
A beacon of promise
That defies the bitter cold

The cracking whips
Whirling from the mountain side
Leave its scars upon the blue ice
As snow flakes flutter
In warmth
Inviting each creation
To softly settle
Upon the focused eye brow

A storm! A storm!
Does the vigilant and valiant soul implore
A hot breath released
From the lair of inner humanity
Conjures the alarms to sound

Seven thousand trumpets
And eleven hundred horns
Fifteen million voices
An ensemble of angelic scorns
Seventy seven and eight children more
Raise voice in choir
To launch a Dragon's breath
An infinity of fire

To rage across
The ocean ice
To rip and shred through
The manacles of time
To save a hopeless plight

A sail in the fog
As heated lightning glows red
And the storm skies pink

Voices are heard
In the somber silence
That only snow can muffle low
A crackling of heavy
And thick ice give way
To its moans and groans

Like snapping timber
In a blazing fire
Does the ship make way
Through the same plotted course
Dripping with ice
And covered with frost
The Arctic Falcons Eyes
And his face
Have made

Published by Falcons Wing

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