Crone

My breath is stolen in the moments before the sun,

I feel the shock to my bare feet,

I don't hear hoofbeats,

That isn't the way the Lady approaches,

In the silence, I hear the crows spreading the news of her coming,

I am frozen, in shock, fear, and somehow joy.

Feeling the wheel turn is a pastime rarely observed in a digital age.

Her fleet of ice marches on, seizing man wherever he may be in his tiny delusion of a life,

My throat burns, a song caught in mid scream,

Preservation, perseverance, and surrendering are all a part of her reign.

Some things are constant,

And My Lady may take her time in arrival,

But I promise you,

She is never late.

Give your goosebumps to the Ice Queen,

Your grumbles to Jack,

She hears you,

She cares,

But she has a job to do,

A court to rule,

And a wheel to turn.