Fallen

Oh how the mighty do fall
When Winter's ice does call
When dear old Frosty Jack
With icicles does attack
No force can he withstand
When passing his frigid hand
Over copse and moorland bleak
And creatures there do seek
Respite from his death-dealing blast
And huddling as one stand aghast
As green brown Autumn's view
Does change at sun's adieu
To gleam of silver white
Echoing full moon bright
And stars of frosty hoare
Sparkle like sand on wet shore
While ice-rigid grass crunches
As creature against blast hunches
Creeping beaten to forest bough
Wondering why ever, what happened, how
Did it fall from gloried throne
With harem to now one alone
And dropping proud antlered head
Does lie as if passed on, dead
And bemoans its weary fate
That leaves it in sorrowed state
And giving its last bellowed all
Wonders, how do the mighty fall


Terry Rhiannyr
November 2012