Thursday, 8 December 2022

December 8, 2022

 


For our 8th hobbity yule calendar entry, we have a poem! It is written by master Aerinbard who oftentimes visits the Green Dragon and recites us poems there. Next week, he'll host another Fed Poets' Society meetup on Wednesday. So if you are fond of poetry, you are welcome to join!


Snow Mystery

by Aerinbard Fallohide

 

It was late, late, late

one fore-yule night

and waking, restless,

lad that I was,

I crept into the kitchen

where the coals burned low and red

to find some morsel on which I might be fed

but swifter than my small hands,

my mother's lifted down the pot

and in it she warmed the milk.

Nutmeg she added

and a dash of cinnamon

silent smiles between us,

my nose barely high enough to see.

The only sound the wooden spoon, stirring.

Smooth mugs in hand she drew me to the window

where she pointed to the new falling snow.

Starlight made it glimmer,

flecks of pure white shimmer,

soft and silent it fell.

I pointed to the door, eyes bright.

She smiled and led the way.

Together, not a cloak between us

we stepped into the night.

Cold crystals crushed beneath my feet.

Her face she lifted to the sky,

and let ice feathers touch her lashes

as the steam clouded up from our mugs.

We sipped, toes going numb,

too lost in wonder to care

as the world went from shadow to white.

With a shiver up my spine,

it struck me then:

starlight when it snows?

How?

A flicker caught my eye, there by the fence

at the edge of our yard,

tall, and blending with the dappled night:

someone!

Long flaxen hair, eyes bright as gems.

Somehow I was not afraid.

They put a hushing finger to their lips, and smiled.

Starlight gathered at their feet and they nodded at me.

I looked back to my mother, her joyous face, eyes still closed,

dusted in white, the stars above still bright.

She knew how to listen for wonder.

I looked to the stranger, but they were gone.

I still see my mother when it snows.

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