Elk

As the sun rises

A shaggy figure wades through the swirling mist.

His hooves crunch softly in the deep new snow.

He raises his antlered head

And calls to the great winter sky.

It is a promise.

“Have patience!” it says.

“Winter is not eternal!

Spring will return

And cover the forest with her cloak of green.

The life-flame will lick across the valleys

And up the slopes of the distant mountains.

The brooks will laugh once more.

The flowers will open

And tell their dreams to the stars.

It will all come.

Hold fast.

Have strength.

Wait.”