Fytte I- Winter’s Pass

The river frozen solid

Beneath, no stirring flow

Icicles hang from the trees

The pond is banked by snow

No sign of leaf, dead or alive

All is silent here

The buds are bare as if to dare

A bird to sit and sing with cheer

 

The cloudless sky aggrieves the ground

But all stands frozen still

No soul to die would care to try

To excite it with a thrill

The clouds approach the seam afar

Breaching cloudless skies

Orion and Polaris agree

To retreat, and call a night

The stars put up no struggle as

The sun commands the day

The clouds retreat and leave the snow

Unto the sun obey

But the mercy of the sun

Is displayed this way

She holds back her heat, makes it retreat

To come another day

 

So Time and Space, they run a course

And make purpose to fulfill

To demonstrate their might and power

And to their awe instill

 

On an eve oh! Fine and fair

When the stars all dance alight

The sun knows it must rise with flair

To end what most call “Nature’s Plight”

And so the day arrives too soon

And gently lays the night to rest

Its dirge, nature sings and so the sun brings

To the grand snowbanks and icicles death

 

Fytte II- The Song of Spring

 

The river thaws and off it runs

The fish return to flow

The bear awakes her cubs, she takes

To where the berry bush grows

The fox runs about, her tail her pride

The vermin sneaking fro,

The lynx glides through the barren trees

Now leaf or bud are yet to grow

 

From the ground the flowers spring

Grass lifts up all around

Snakes slide and slither through the marsh

The insects now abound

Rumbling clouds roll over glens

And there persuade the trees

To come awake, to drink in life

To spread open bud and leaf

 

So Time and Space, they run a course

And make purpose to fulfill

To demonstrate their might and power

And to their awe instill

 

The green wood deepens, oak and maple

Fill the forest with birch and pine

Ash, balsa, and spruce (the staple)

Break the horizon with gentle tines

The mountains loom e’er near

Deer and fawns frolic in the sage

But lingering still is winter’s chill

Bycoming sun’s wrath and rage

 

Time and toil, both the sun boils

Wilting flowers and drying streams

Soon the animals turn to turmoil

As the water turns to steam

(Fytte III- The Roil of Summer)

The plants run dry, the thistles protrude

The thorns, they rake and claw

A lack of water oft presents

The crow-bird’s guttural gall

Pain and sweat are the rewards

Of summer’s futile toils

The thunder of the monsoon rains

Serves only hearts to roil

 

Under brush and in the shade

The Adder waits, coiled

Seen by a disparaging mother hawk

His dinner plans are foiled

 

So Time and Space they run a course

And make purpose to fulfill

To demonstrate their might and power

And to their awe instill