Winter-Time

Down from the northern rim,
A demon passed.
The way he danced on ice and snow,
Was but a ritual cast.

He had a wind-chime in his bag,
All fluted bright with gold.
There were no rules of etiquette,
For he was very bold.

He held his face within a grin,
And pressed his very will.
He rounded crags that took him down,
To the cave beside the mill.

Crouching in his clever-way,
He managed with his staff.
And rumbling through the countryside,
He sent a monstrous laugh.

O Yes...I'm sure a demon passed,
For he was in his prime.
With dangling chains he ventured forth,
Like...cold..cold winter-time.

E.P. 1908 - 1989

This is my husband, RKM - ice climbing near our home.