Pelt of snow and eyes of onyx shards, majestic and proud
On mountain cliffs far above, amidst avalanche snow
How dost thou regard us- frail beings far below?
Thou layest in fields of snow blossoms as the wind howls.
Should the blackbird take wing through olive branches
How cruel is this fate to steal and to perish
In thy heart, is thine image clear or tarnished?
Burst forth from the crusted pie and sing thy distress
To sit 'neath the willows, their branches weeping above thee,
Thy scales of cobalt and azure like lake waters
Mist and frost veil thee like silk of faerie weavers
Wherefore thou deign to suffer us small and weak?


Penned by my hand on the 23rd of Phaestian, in the year 577 AF.