You are a dream of winter nights,
of dark alleys, flickering streetlights,
and bone-deep, biting cold.
You are a memory of frozen rivers,
of robins in a snowy tree
and bloodhounds ready to give chase.
You are the chill in my bones,
speaking to me of the Forgotten Dead;
You are the warmth in my empty bed,
whispering softly in my ear
through the year’s longest night.
You are a dream of darkness, snow, and death,
of dancing flames and roaring winds,
of a Hunt that rides tirelessly through the winter.
You speak to me in the night, Lover,
sing to me in the stars.
Bring on the winter, then,
and bring on the dark.