Ah, Dearest Don

Where have you gone? Winter flakes are spilling downward
From Heaven's mouth, drawn.
Do you wake to piercing thunder, mind asunder
To a soundless dawn?
Or is this time in dreaming spent on weaving a map
To capture this complex vaughn?

To a dreamer dreaming on

No, you are not alone
The maidens carry wings of wonder to compliment your own
When you genuflect to gentle hands
Made pacts that set in stone
To carry with and carry by the sweet and hollow bones

Feathers frayed by funerals are naught to make you fade
By weathered stones and minerals you will not be swayed
If by chain or by vein somehow you obtain
A maiden's galdr do not falter to sing your serenade