Eclipse of the Kings Death
By: David Painter
Dark clouds hang in the still darker sky
no hue of blue can be found
a thousand gates a thousand doors are shut against winter's roar.
The wind gathers itself in a great cloud
and wanders off carrying with it the dreams of spring
leaving behind a cold like the grey light from an open grave.
Over this land
the howl of the wolves like the cries of birthing pains is winter's true song
a light moves across the southern horizon
for all joy is lodged there.
The tears that flow have not been seen
since Graywick the King fell at the frozen bay
his sprit circling in the ebbing air
his body was borne home on his shield and the flowers smile across the ages
as if to say, "We remember."
but that was long ago, for it is now spring and we dance.
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