The spirit of the lake Part 1
Fog shrouds the trail of human tracks,
under a short lease they accept exposure,
in fours they shuffle across the void,
when unexpected chills strike fragile nerves,
subtle fingertips brush frosty necks,
a spirit emerges and heeds its warning..
"Do not venture this day"! "Galloping blizzards stray near"!
"Retreat before nightfall, for tomorrow my dominion will regain its strength"!
a swift green flash appears, like a tree filtering the sun,
the spirit now absent and his utterence complete,
unhindered by cold touch the four plough onwards,
penetrating a province that belongs only to the forgotten,
dissolving roots, warming bodies soon fade,
taking flight, formers take wraith like stature,
faint yawns now resemble connections of former speech,
by defying the spirit they now dwell in winters deep,
heeding warnings to warm bodies they meet.