“The Curse of Winter”
Though Autumn is beautiful in colors new and bright,
She heralds her sister Winter, the seasons’ time of Night
Bitter cold is the nature of her heart
Many will die by her icy breath, and Autumn is where she’ll start!
First are the leaves she cleaves from trees, leaving nothing but the stem
Then she turns them brown as the ground on which they lie
And scatters them far and wide as they curl and die
While their naked branches in silence mourn them.
But the Pine and Spruce and their siblings green
Upon them was no brown could be seen.
After three moons, Winter cannot help but wonder at the cause
And rests her cold hand on a nearby Fir in a moment of pause.
“This is too much!” Thought Fir, and he could no longer stop his laughter,
“Your cold fingers tickle me; I’ll tell you all!
But it’s cold, and I am old. Clear my roots from your last snow fall
And then you shall have your answer!
It took a week to blow all the snow away, but it was done.
Winter, busy with her work, did not see the return of the sun.
And before she could look, the cheerful Fir began,
“Your siblings, all, they knew of your treacherous dream.
So Spring before she left for other lands,
Asked Summer to fortify me against your icy hands.
And Autumn left my hue alone so like a lesser tree to you I’d seem.
Suddenly, Winter found that for her breath she fought.
And though she could no longer speak, the Fir knew her thought
And these were the last words she heard him speak:
“And here is the final part of the answer you seek:
I was to distract you when the Sun to the sky would soar
As he brought back your Sister Spring back from the other lands where she lingers
To heal the wounds and bring life from death caused by your cold fingers.
This you started long ago, and now as ever cursed are you to forget this lore!