No storm clouds in the sky today
Just an ocean of blue above our heads,
No migrating birds fleeing winter
No Icarus flying with waxed wings.
Only a winter breeze is whistling
Through the shells of our body
For a gentle wind contains no riches,
Aeolus’ bag has been forced open.
Streets are wrapped in a blanket of snow
A midnight snowfall kissing the ground
Exhaled from the mouth of the goddess Chione
Who retreats without a song or sound.
Winter trees stand lonely and bare,
Idle upon the whitened landscape,
Waiting to be fed by the hands of Persephone
Fleeing Hades from the shadows of death.
The storm clouds, they may return one day
With Thallo riding a Tulpars wings
As the goddess spreads the growth of nature,
Her scent drifts through the months of spring.