crunching footfalls in the ice-paned snow

crunching footfalls in the ice-paned snow
break the glaring silence of the moon.

to know this land is to know the lives of the dead
whose corpses lie entombed below these sable stones,
shrouded in the hoarfrost.

scattered cairns wear auric mantles.

an abandoned bivouac in the nethermost ghyll
serves as a gibbet for the exiles,
inaureoled by lunar haze.

there is a whimpering fire and a huddle of men.

perhaps they will survive the frozen plains,
or perhaps they will join the monuments
under the pallid eye of the moon.

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/4z3twg/my_pretty_person_bubble/d6spupz

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/4yyux1/sunshine_smile/d6sq89y