Winter series, 5 meters long Options

[Merlin]

This is my "series" covering the same theme in different meters. These are offered as "white-space stuffers", if required. When selecting, be brutal, or brumal...



Brumal Solstice

December snow lay all around
my Dawson City home;
it shrouded mountains, rivers, lakes,
and trailways here to Nome.

Our world was frozen bleak and stiff
from Whitehorse to Old Crow
so ravens, moose and caribou
set off for Mexico.

As darkness dallied, settled down,
it swallowed cheer and sun.
Cheechakos cursed this devil north,
its grip they couldn’t shun.

Then came the day out on the land
when heavens turned pale blue
and silent woods with white-clad pines
lit up like Manitou.

An angel choir seemed to arise
from hushed, primordial hills;
a Solstice carol floats amid
these drawn-out winter chills.



Where is the Sun?

Snow, abundance of snow
covers the mountains,
flatlands, forests,
lowlands and lakes.

Men of the northland
curse the hold that grips
like an iron claw –
they cannot escape.
Darkness dangles from treetops.
Then, one day,
pale blue skies and sunshine
bring cheer to Cheechako miners;
winter solstice has arrived.


Cabin Fever

There was snow to the roof of my cabin that year
and it covered up valleys and mountains.
Every trail was beneath several feet of the stuff;
nothing moved, not a hare nor the fool hens.

Deep darkness had settled; it wouldn’t let go
while the wind howled its chronic refrain.
Cheechako-men cursed but they couldn’t give up
this northland, their devil’s campaign.

Came the day when black heavens turned back to pale blue,
and I walked to relieve cabin strain;
big trees on the hills shone like old Manitou,
all a-glisten like warm summer rain.

A carol came floating; it somehow survived.
Like an angelic choir on air,
it announced once again that the time had arrived:
winter solstice will lift our despair.



Winter Solstice Arrives

Dawson is snow-covered bleakness; the city lies quiet and tranquil,
circled by white, sleeping mountains and lakes forming vast, open spaces,
frozen and resting in limbo. The forest is shelter for darkness;
sunshine has vanished, forsaken the northland and stolen contentment.

Miracles happen – one day while out walking, old Manitou’s pathway
swept through our woodlands, igniting small sparkles that shimmered and glistened,
waking up angels whose mystical voices were heavenly carols,
floating to rouse many desperate spirits of Cheechako miners.


Northland Solstice

Snow lay deep that cold December
on my Dawson City home,
shrouding mountains, lakes and rivers
far and wide, ensconcing Nome.

Not much moved; our world was frozen
from Old Crow to Watson Lake.
Even ravens had forsaken
this harsh land, for pity’s sake.

Darkness dwelled; it dipped and dallied,
swallowing the midnight sun.
How men cursed this devil northland
and its grip they couldn’t shun.

Came the day I went out walking
under quiet, pale blue skies,
Manitou, as white-clad pine trees,
sparkled over every rise.

Could it be an angel choir
singing carols in those hills?
Solstice in this frigid northland
brings unusual winter thrills.