Snow King

In a far far land where men are men
and women are sun and sky
The Snow King paces. And light throws
a gold patina on the white spaces
where sparrows lie frozen in hallways.

And he weeps for the sparrows, their clumped feathers:
Where is the summer that lasts forever,
with night as soft as antelope eyes?
The Snow King roams the lime-filled spaces
his cracked heart a slow fire, a garnet.