Ice Beasts

Through the mists of frosted grass and icy underbrush,

You may think you hear him creeping.

Singing exquisite songs to rival that crafty Wood Thrush,

Even though he should be sleeping.

He might sound sweet and pleasant, and look just as such.

With his soft and silky coat, dull, but lovely just as much.

You'll want to travel far, simply to see his face.

He'll run and duck for cover, leading you into chase.

Mindlessly you'll follow, watching broad horns disappear.

Gallivanting, flitting, you leap across the weir.

Exhausted, exhilarated, your feet carry you on.

You can't quite seem to catch your breath; praying to Amon.

Since when did you have such devotion, to gods you couldn't see?

Since the demon of your frozen nightmares, tripled into three.