A mirror image on silver ice
Reflects the cloud-white moon.
Night’s cold crisp air, breath is visible
Hangs eerily dim, like a phantom.
The freshly laden snow
Sparkles like a million diamonds.
The pine is etched black, in front of the moon
Laying dormant in these long winter nights.
Who can call this home?
In this subzero chill.
For who can claim the fiery crown
Of the aurora dancing overhead.
Till a lone wolf cry is sounded
Echoing to all; this is my domain.
No sound is audible, nor equivalent
To the lone wolf cry.
And crying indeed, the wolf’s mournful howl
Cause deep down he knows.
His domain is to be melted soon…
About the Creator
Deasun T. Smyth
Eighteen years ago… I was born into the wind-swept lands of the prairies – where I regularly fly on dragons and battle goblin kings.
I'm a First Nation's wannabe writer, trying to survive college...
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Compelling and original writing
Creative use of language & vocab
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Zero grammar & spelling mistakes
On-point and relevant
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📢 Raise Your Voice Thread: 01/08/2026
Our “Raise Your Voice Threads” are hosted most alternating Thursdays at 12PM ET to offer creators more avenues to uncover exceptional stories on Vocal. As we are continuously searching for fresh creators and inspiring stories, this thread provides an opportunity to exchange and discuss the stories that have moved and motivated us on Vocal.
By Raise Your Voice by Vocal5 days ago in Resources
Comments (4)
Who can claim the fiery crown. Beautiful poem. Nicely Done
I like the white cloud moon line.
WOW!!! Love LOve, LOVE this! Love the picture you paint with this line: "The pine is etched black, in front of the moon". GREAT job!
This was hauntingly beautiful! Very melancholic. I loved it!