When Northern winds hurl epithets of snow,
Against the fragile ramparts of our walls;
And raucous howling with nowhere to go,
Makes lullabies of frozen banshee calls;
When the cold and brittle power of ice,
And the frigid, frozen arms of the storm,
Sweep away wishes, erased in a trice,
Of feats of daring I'll never perform;
The power of wonder with all its might,
Rises to challenge the grim sounds I hear,
Push back the ebony terror of night,
And illuminate the darkness I fear.
Though perilous power's in midnight screams,
It's no match for the fury of my dreams!
Mick McKellar
March 2015
The mysterious moans and screams of growling and howling winter storms can terrify the calmest mind during the murky depths of black frozen nights. Furious dreams must light the way.
Mick
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