Horns do not blare in the early bluster
That switches papered leaves from birthright rest .
Popcorn trees stir in the bleating woodwind
Fore the gusting fanfare of carnivore .
Clouds like witches soar across the Worm Moon—
Crow–shine dance—from caverns come nightcrawlers :
A sacrifice .   Hoofbeat aft the curtain
Rising :   the steeds blaze from the underworld .
Dusk entombs the dark stillness of winter,
As the night–song quiets before the dawn
Of spring that will color the bleak landscape
When life teems within the eye of Horus .

*[ WSB ]_.